Talk Is Cheap
by RagnarokSkurai
Summary: (DracoxHarry) Seventh Year isn't shaping out so hot. George hits on Harry, Hermione and Ron break up, and no one is quite sure what Malfoy is up to. Dialogue Fic.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a fic composed more or less entirely of dialogue. Because of this it is sometimes a bit difficult to figure out exactly who is talking. For instance, you may know Harry, Hermione, and Ron are talking, but you may not know who exactly says every line. It's all right. If it's something important, it should be obvious who is talking. Trust me, it's really not that difficult. Just tell me what you think, please! Also posted on Schnoogle.  
**  
A Little Conversation  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster?"  
  
"I cannot stress how important it is for you not to leave your house this summer. As rarely as you can."  
  
"My family, sir. They- "  
  
"I know they don't feel favorable to your magical background. Try to find a middle ground and work through this as best you can."  
  
Small sigh. "Of course, Headmaster."

* * *

Slam.  
  
"One of these days, Potter. One of these days."  
  
"I look forward to it."  
  
"Just let it go, Harry. We're almost at the station."  
  
"...fine."

* * *

"Well, that was a smashing ending to Sixth Year."  
  
"Git."  
  
"He lives to piss me off."  
  
"That's the only thing I can think of that explains his presence on this earth."  
  
"I was thinking more like Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy having sex."  
  
Silence.  
  
Shrill scream. "Oh. My. God."  
  
"The images...!"  
  
"Hermione, that was the cruelest thing you've ever done to me. Ever. I won't be able to sleep for weeks."  
  
"You don't think they look cute together?"  
  
"They do make a stunning couple..."  
  
"Ginny, you are not helping."  
  
"Shut. Up. Now."  
  
Sigh. "Does no one see the romance...?"  
  
"Hermione! Stop."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Yes, a truly smashing end to Sixth Year indeed."

* * *

"I'll see you later, Ron."  
  
"Don't worry. We're going to twist Dumbledore's arm until he lets you come stay with us. At least for a few weeks. We won't abandon you to the Muggles."  
  
Smile. "Thanks."  
  
"George was looking forward to seeing you."  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"No pressure. I'm just saying, he likes you a lot."  
  
"It's just... strange. Maybe something I can get over, but he still seems, like... like a brother."  
  
"I think you just labeled him that way. Think about it, okay?"  
  
"I will. I mean, he is cool and we've got a lot in common-"  
  
"Please don't say he looks hot, or something equally disturbing."  
  
Beat.  
  
"He's gorgeous. And if I could get Fred in on the action..."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Sorry. Can't help myself." Smirk.  
  
"That was awful."  
  
"Almost as bad as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?"  
  
"I really, really hate you."  
  
Laugh. "I'll see you soon, okay, Ron?"  
  
"Yeah. See you soon."

* * *

"Boy! Get in the car!"  
  
"Yes, Uncle Vernon."  
  
"I trust there won't be any funny stuff this summer?"  
  
"No. Of course not."

* * *

"I mean, I'm Harry Potter, not God. What do they expect from me?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I don't have all the answers! I'm not the answer! I am not some fricken messiah sent from above to save all human and magical-kind!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I am not all-powerful, I am not a hero, and I am not... I...  
  
Silence.  
  
"I suppose I am quite insane trying to talk to an owl."  
  
Hooting noise. Sigh.

* * *

"Thank God you're here!"  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"Well, more or less the same as usual."  
  
"Bad enough, then. Come on, get in the car."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Good to see you again, Harry. Is that all your things?"  
  
"Yes. Literally."  
  
Awkward silence.  
  
"Well, we're going to Diagon Alley later this week. You can buy whatever you need then."  
  
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to your family?"  
  
"They aren't home."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Yeah. So what's been happening at the Burrow?"  
  
"Charlie stopped by last week, still raving about how you handled that Horntail. He's sorry he missed you. Ginny and Mum are in a fever pitch, and Fred has been practically sitting on George to keep him still."  
  
"I... well..."  
  
"It's your own fault you know. You're the one who wrote him over the summer."  
  
"He wrote me first! What was I supposed to do, ignore him?"  
  
"Aww, you're blushing. You like him, don't you?"  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"Harry and George sitting in a tree..."  
  
"What are you, a First Year?"  
  
"...K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."  
  
"Idiot."

* * *

"Oy! Harry!"  
  
"Hey, George."  
  
"I..."  
  
"For the love of God, snog all ready!"  
  
Blush.  
  
"Shut up, Ron!"  
  
"Ronald Weasley!"  
  
Sigh. "Sorry, Mum."  
  
"You are so dead."

* * *

"So?"  
  
"You honestly think I'm going to tell you?"  
  
"I am your best friend..."  
  
"So is Hermione."  
  
"But she's a girl! She doesn't understand!"  
  
"I would be going out with a guy. That makes her more qualified than you."  
  
Beat.  
  
"Going out?"  
  
"Damn it."  
  
"That's a good thing!"  
  
"Well the thing is, Ron, we're not really... going out."  
  
"So what is it then?"  
  
"It's nothing. I just can't see George that way. Sorry."  
  
"Don't be... well, don't say sorry. At least not to me. It's not your fault... Well, actually it is your fault. But don't worry, he'll get over it. Eventually."  
  
"You are so much help, Ron."  
  
Weak laugh. "Sorry."

* * *

"George, stop that."  
  
"Sorry, Mum."  
  
"You don't look sorry."  
  
"Well, that's because I'm not."  
  
"Calm yourself dear. You're making Harry blush."

* * *

"One of the definite perks of George liking me... no more practical jokes."  
  
"Don't rub it in. User. Just because you're the only person in the house who didn't get hit with the slime in the showers. Can't believe he's still holding out for you."  
  
"Oh, he'll get it eventually I suppose."  
  
"And until then, you're going to be prank-free."  
  
Laugh. "Ron?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks for saving me from the Dursleys."  
  
"No problem. I couldn't just leave you there. Those people are awful."  
  
"I second that. So when's Hermione coming up?"  
  
"She's not."  
  
"She's... not?"  
  
"Nope. We called it quits. For good."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. We were both getting tired of swinging between not talking because we were too mad at each other to think straight and not talking because we were snogging each other's brains out."  
  
"Well, at least you're still friends."  
  
"'Course we are."

* * *

"I can't believe you've been here a month all ready."  
  
"Yeah. School's in a week."  
  
Groan. "Did you have to remind me?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I'm kind of looking forward to it."  
  
"Now you sound like Hermione. The woman is nagging me by proxy."  
  
"Proxy? You know what that means? She'd be proud."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Aww, is ickle Ronniekins afraid he's turning into Head Boy material?"  
  
"Shut. Up."

* * *

"Bye, George."  
  
"I'll be seeing you, Harry."  
  
Smacking noise.  
  
"Oy, take care of him for me, all right, Ron?"  
  
Eye roll. "Of course. Wouldn't dream of letting anyone harm a hair on his head."  
  
"They'd better not. Or we'll test all the newest Weasley products on them."  
  
"There's a thought. I hope it's Malfoy then."

* * *

"George kissed me. George. Kissed me. George kissed. Me."  
  
"No matter how many times you say it, it's still true."  
  
"George. Kissed. Me."  
  
"Get over it all ready."  
  
"George..."  
  
"Gah! Stop it! It wasn't even a real kiss!"  
  
"Of course it was a real kiss! Lip on lip contact counts as kissing in my book!" Pause. "Oh my God. George kissed me!"  
  
"I'm begging you..."  
  
"George... kissed me!"  
  
Whimper. "... please stop..."

* * *

"Kill me. Kill me now."  
  
"Ron, you are a complete drama queen. King. Whatever."  
  
"I might as well die. Everyone's paired off except me. I mean, there's you and George..."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Well, sort of. But there's Ginny and Colin. Hermione and Dean. When exactly did that happen anyway? Seamus and... well, whoever he's going out with this week."  
  
"This week happens to be that brunette Ravenclaw. A fifth-year, I think. But cheer up Ron. There are plenty of people for you to go out with. Lavender and Parvati, or how about that fifth year, Ashley? She's cute. And that's just our House!"  
  
Groan. "Harry, please stop. You're making it worse. Ashley's going out with Neville. And Lavender is going out with Parvati."  
  
"Oh. How do I miss these things?"  
  
"You live in your own world."  
  
Frown. "Apparently more than I thought."  
  
"It's all right. Last year was... distracting."  
  
"Having Death Eater assassins trying to kill me every week or so was kind of distracting, yes."  
  
"Ah well. Let's not live in the past."  
  
Laugh. "C'mon, I'm tired. Let's get up to the dorm."

* * *

"Hey Harry?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I just remembered something. Malfoy. What was up with him earlier?"  
  
"I don't know. He was unusually quiet, wasn't he?"  
  
"I think he's plotting something."  
  
"Seamus, were they even talking to you?"  
  
"Shut up, Dean! I'm just trying to be helpful!"  
  
"Well, if he is, we'll get to the bottom of it."  
  
"I don't think he actually is plotting something. Growing up around Fred and George, you learn to see a plot a mile away."  
  
"Maybe. Think he's just not going to be so obnoxious?"  
  
"Like that'll ever happen!"  
  
"Shut up, Seamus!"  
  
"Dean, I swear to God man..."  
  
"Good night everyone!"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Good night, Neville."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"S'all right. Just shut up."

* * *

"One thing I should have learned by now: Never get between Neville and sleep."  
  
"Yeah. Normally he's so quiet, but when he's tired..."  
  
"Rowr."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So what do we have today?"  
  
"Potions. Bright and early the first day."  
  
"Of course. With...?"  
  
"The Slytherins."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Try not to hex anyone this year, Ron. Snape takes off points for you existing, much less actually misbehaving."  
  
"Can't help it. If Malfoy so much as looks at me sideways..."  
  
"Deep breaths, Ron."  
  
"I... You... "Growl. "I can't stand it."

* * *

"Today we will be making the Munatius Potion, which you all should have done essays on over the summer." Eagle-eyed stare. "The ingredients are on the desks, and you have exactly one hour to complete it. Beginning now."  
  
"And so it begins..."  
  
"Why do you keep saying that?"  
  
"Saw it in a movie. It got stuck in my head."  
  
"You're such a freak."  
  
"Sure, insult your best friend. Good plan."  
  
"S'not like there's anyone else around."  
  
"We should actually be working on our Potion, so you're stuck with me for now."  
  
"Right. In that case, does the asphodel go in before or after the holly?"  
  
"Before." Pause. "Like now, Ron."  
  
"Oh! Sorry."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Here's the holly."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't put that in yet. You forgot the gillyweed. It'll explode if you put that in."  
  
"Ah... thanks."  
  
"Don't worry about it."

* * *

"That was the most bizarre experience of my life."  
  
"Mine too."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It was surreal."  
  
"What? What happened?"  
  
"Completely unbelievable."  
  
"Just... unreal."  
  
"_What ruddy happened_?"  
  
"Malfoy helped us."  
  
Beat.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Malfoy helped us. He stopped us from blowing up our cauldron."  
  
"Hermione? Are you all right?"  
  
"I've suddenly gone deaf. I thought I heard you say that Malfoy..."  
  
"... helped us. Yeah. Twilight Zone."  
  
"Do do do do do do do doooo..."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Umm, what's the Twilight Zone?"

* * *

"Chop this up, all right? I've got to get more powdered bicorn..."  
  
"All right." Pause. "This good?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Long silence.  
  
"Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Any particular reason you aren't trying to kill me this year?"  
  
"Because I need you to kill Voldemort just as much as everyone else around here. Maybe more."  
  
Very long silence.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll speak slowly and use smaller words." Deep breath. "I don't want to be a Death Eater. I don't want Voldemort to win this war. I need you to win it." Pause. "And squabbling all the time was getting annoying."  
  
"I... right."  
  
"Could you get the toad warts?"  
  
"Do I look like a house elf?" Pause. "Oh, fine. But you're chopping them up."

* * *

"He said what?"  
  
"Shh!"  
  
"Jesus Ron, be a little louder, why don't you?"  
  
"Err, sorry. But he said what exactly?"  
  
"He doesn't want to be a Death Eater. And he doesn't like Voldemort, basically."  
  
"Is anyone else finding that hard to believe?"  
  
"I don't know. Seemed like he was telling the truth."  
  
"Well Hermione, what do you think?" Pause. "Hermione?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"What do you mean you're 'not sure'? What's to be 'not sure' about?!"  
  
"Well, one, he's been acting different. And two, the Slytherins have been treating him different. Did you notice? I don't know what you'd call it, exactly. Crabbe and Goyle haven't changed, but Pansy was straight up rude to him."  
  
"And that's strange, because she was all but announcing their engagement last year..."  
  
"Blaise was off as well. And she was acting really strange, because she was almost... pitying. Pity. From a Slytherin. I don't know. It was weird. And everyone else seems to avoid him slightly. Not like getting up and leaving the moment he sits down. Not that kind of avoiding. But staying as far away as possible. Like he's got some sort of disease."  
  
"You've been watching him an awful lot."  
  
Shrug. "I always watch the Slytherins. Someone around here has to know what's going on."  
  
"So, you think he's telling him the truth? And that's why the Slytherins are doing that?"  
  
"I'm not sure. If they were all avoiding him, that would make sense. But there are all these different reactions. I'm not sure. I'm reserving judgement."  
  
"So, basically you're telling me I'm the only one with any sense around here?"  
  
"He could be telling the truth, Ron."  
  
"Here's the big question: Why? Why the sudden switch in loyalties? Every year up until now he was You-Know-Who's biggest fan. Now, suddenly, he's on Harry's side."  
  
"He might not have known what he was getting into. Not really. They think it's all evil fun-and-games. It's not. Being a Death Eater is pretty degrading, actually. Bowing, scraping, fighting for Voldemort's - "  
  
"Stop saying his name!"  
  
"Voldemort's attention. Maybe he finally got a taste of reality."  
  
"Good. About ruddy time."  
  
"I don't know about that."  
  
"I wouldn't wish Voldemort-"  
  
"You said his name again!"  
  
"- on anyone. Well. Maybe a select few."  
  
"Wormtail."  
  
"Lucius."  
  
"Umbridge."  
  
"Is she still at St. Mungo's?"  
  
"So they say."  
  
"Would I be a horrible person if I said, 'good'?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"No."  
  
"All right then. Good."

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes, Professor?"  
  
"Are you... all right?"  
  
"Would you be?"  
  
Sigh. "I'd hoped..."  
  
Silence.  
  
"You should understand that Hogwarts is open on all holidays. You're welcome to stay here through as many of them as you wish."  
  
"Thank you, Professor, but I can't imagine that would go over very well."  
  
"No, it wouldn't, would it?" Pause. "Was there any scars from your... incident?"  
  
Bitter laugh. "There's a few. One rather large one."  
  
"As I feared. Draco, you know I am always here..."  
  
"I know. Thank you again, but I'm afraid it's too late."  
  
Long silence.  
  
"And what is it you wish, Draco? Where do your loyalties lie?"  
  
"Not with him, certainly. I don't know if he knows that yet."  
  
"Whatever you do, do not be careless around him. Hide your feelings, your allegiances. Hide everything and tell him nothing."  
  
"No need to tell me that. That is exactly what I plan to do. I may be his, but I am not on his side."  
  
"Draco, I... you know I can't help you. Not like that. But if you ever wish to change where you stand, or at least the direction in which you are facing, come to me."  
  
"I... I will. I'll think about it." Pause. "After all, it can't really get much worse, can it?"  
  
"I'm afraid not."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Good night, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"Good night, Professor."

* * *

"Hermione, please tell me that isn't a practice N.E.W.T."  
  
"Umm... it isn't a practice N.E.W.T.?"  
  
"For the love of God! It's October! OCTOBER! Six months until N.E.W.T.S. Six months! Hermione, you need a hobby. Really, you do."  
  
"Shut up, Ron. Just because I want to be prepared."  
  
"Quite honestly 'Mione, planning something six months ahead of time really is quite frightening."  
  
"Thank you so much for backing me up on this one, Harry."  
  
"Hey, it has always been dismally apparent where I stand on the subject of studying. I have no stand."  
  
"And yet you are still in the top ten percent of the class. Sometimes I want to shoot you."  
  
"Shoot me? How dreadfully Muggle of you. You must have meant hex."  
  
"And you're in the top one percent. So why bother killing off us lesser beings?"  
  
Sigh. "You're all driving me insane."  
  
"I am really feeling the love this morning."  
  
Soft singing. "Looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love..."  
  
"Now that's going to be stuck in my head all day. Thank you ever so much."  
  
Beaming smile. "Welcome." More singing. "Looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love..."  
  
"Gah! Stop it!"  
  
"What? Don't you want to sit and bask in my amazing vocal abilities?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ow. That hurts. Really it does. Right here."  
  
"There's something there?"  
  
"So now you've confused me with Snape. I knew you were an idiot."  
  
"Ow. That hurt. Really it did. Right here."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Singing. "Looking for love in all the wrong places, looking for love..."  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"What? You got it stuck in my head! You have no one to blame but yourself!"  
  
Sigh. "It's just going to be that kind of day, isn't it?"

* * *

"... partnered project. I'll leave it to you to find a partner and decide upon a subject from the list. This is quite a weighty assignment. Make sure to do your best."  
  
Shuffle of chairs.  
  
"Oy! Hermione!"  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"Please? I promise to work on it. Really hard." Pout. "Really."  
  
Sigh. "All right. But you'd better."  
  
Awkward silence.  
  
"Well."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Seems as though we're the only ones without partners."  
  
"Did you want to work together? If you didn't, I'm sure Professor Flitwick would let us work alone if – "  
  
"No. It's fine."  
  
"A-all right. Should I meet you in the library later, then?"  
  
"Is eight all right?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Okay." Pause. "See you then, I guess."  
  
"See you then."

* * *

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to abandon you, it's just..."  
  
"No, it's all right, Ron. It won't be that bad. In fact, I'm sure it will be fine."  
  
"Did you hit your head or something? We are talking about Draco Malfoy here, aren't we?"  
  
"Yes. And admit it, he's been acting nice. Well, maybe that's not quite the word. But he has been acting polite."  
  
"You did hit your head, didn't you?"  
  
"Ron, you ass!"  
  
"Well, sorry, but excuse me for being a bit hesitant about trusting him."  
  
Cooing noise. "Poor baby. Is ickle Ronniekins holding a grudge?"  
  
Growl. "Shut it, you."  
  
"I'm just saying. He hasn't been an ass lately."  
  
"Exactly. Be serious, Ron. Has he made one crack about you at all?"  
  
"No."  
  
"About anyone?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Then why are you so put off?"  
  
"One month of good behavior excuses six years of making my life miserable? Don't think so."  
  
Sigh. "Whatever, Ron. It's just a project after all."

* * *

"So what are we doing?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"For the project. Any ideas?"  
  
"The Vampire Convention of 988 would be a good one. The Great Hippogriff Migration of 1466 was on the list too, though it would not be my preference..."  
  
"Afraid of hippograffs?" Small smile.  
  
"No more than anything else. Their claws are a bit off-putting."  
  
"Personal experience is great, isn't it?"  
  
"Laugh all you want. My arm really was hurt that whole time."  
  
"Really."  
  
"You've certainly gotten the hang of that sarcasm thing. And yes, really. I don't heal all that quickly. I've a sort of... a magical immunity to healing potions. They don't work on me the way they do on normal wizards."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"No one knows. About one in every thousand or so wizards are the same way though, so I'm not a complete freak."  
  
"I didn't say you were. I'd just never heard of it before."  
  
"Well. Now you know."  
  
Cough. "So, about the project?"  
  
"We could also study the life's work of Gregory Madoc. Or the Wandless Magic Revolution. I'd go with..."  
  
"Gregory Madoc."  
  
"Yes, that's what I was thinking."  
  
"Seems like the best idea."  
  
"Right. Let's get started. I'll check in the Restricted Section."  
  
"Madame Pince lets you in there?"  
  
"I've got a permanent pass."  
  
"Lucky. For you anyway."  
  
"Mhmm. And you. For today anyway."  
  
"Right."

* * *

"He still has all his limbs at least."  
  
Sigh. "Yes, Ron, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."  
  
"Why ask? I can see for myself."  
  
"It's called common courtesy. Same thing that says you shouldn't talk about people who are standing in front of you."  
  
"Bah. You spoil all my fun."  
  
Sigh.

* * *

So? What did you think? Did you make it this far without being completely confused? Any comments very much appreciated!  



	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

"In conclusion, one can safely say that the whole of modern charms work can be attributed to Madoc's innovative hybrid of the theory of elements and Muggle physics." Short bow. "Thank you."  
  
Loud clapping.  
  
"I'm impressed, boys. Very impressed."  
  
"Thank you, Professor." Smirk.  
  
"A hundred and ten percent for both of you."  
  
Ringing of a bell. Scraping of chairs. Laughter.  
  
Shuffling of feet.  
  
"Probably the first good grade I've had in the class all term."  
  
"Probably because you weren't asleep for once."  
  
Blush. "You noticed?"  
  
Snicker. "You snore."  
  
More blushing.  
  
"See you around, Potter."  
  
"Yeah. Later, Malfoy."

* * *

"I'm impressed."  
  
"That Malfoy and I didn't kill each other?"  
  
"I was talking about your mark, but that too."  
  
"Why, thank you, Hermione."  
  
"Going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"  
  
"Look! There is such a thing as a stupid question! And from the resident genius at that!"  
  
"Shut up, Ron!"  
  
"Yes, we're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I need new Quidditch gloves."  
  
"Didn't you just get a pair before summer break?"  
  
"Ye-es..."  
  
"How _do_ you wear them out so fast?"  
  
"Seekers play rough."  
  
"...right."  
  
"Ignore her, Harry. Woman have no true appreciation of Quidditch."  
  
"Ron... run."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"Because Ginny and half the other Sixth Year girls heard that last comment of yours. And now they've got that bloodthirsty look in their eyes..."  
  
"Running." Clatter of shoes.  
  
"I think that's because they were looking at you."  
  
"That's even more disturbing." Shudder. "Giggling Sixth Years. A horror unmatched by anything except, perhaps, giggling Fifth Years."  
  
"Personally I find this year's Third Years particularly loathsome."  
  
"That's just because they rigged the Prefect's bathroom last week. I thought it was rather clever, myself."  
  
"You didn't get hit with Dungbombs, now, did you?"  
  
"... I feel a sort of kinship with them, almost. That Kleypas girl reminds me of you."  
  
Squeak. "That... that insufferable know it all? You must be joking! She actually corrected me the other day! Do you believe it?! Right in the middle of a conversation!"  
  
Snicker. "How rude."  
  
"Exactly! I..." Pause. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"  
  
"Oh, no. Of course not."

* * *

Tapping of a quill. "Think we're ever going to get a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"  
  
Shrug. "Nope. Don't really care either. Having a free period is great."  
  
"Ron! What about our N.E.W.T.s? We'll have no knowledge of Seventh Year material! How can we - !" "Hermione. Breathe. Dumbledore will get us a teacher. Whether he is or isn't evil or whether he will actually know anything remains to be seen. But _we will have a teacher_."  
  
Deep breath. "O-okay. I'm okay. I'm fine. Totally calm."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Uh huh. Nothing to be worried about. After all, our N.E.W.T.s only determine whether we graduated, what jobs we get, our whole _future_..." Choking noise.  
  
"Hermione! Breathe!"

* * *

"Trelawney has finally lost it. How the hell are you supposed to read the future in fucking tree roots? Tree roots!"  
  
"The same way we always do, Ron. Make it up."  
  
"It's getting rather difficult, I'll have you know. There are only so many horrible things that can happen to a person. I mean, how many bloody times can a person be mauled by a hippogriff?! Honestly. And I'd rather not chance things by predicting your death. No offense."  
  
"None taken. I'd rather you not chance it either."  
  
"But Divination... Don't tell Hermione, but I really wish we'd walked out that day way back in Third Year with her. Taken Arithmancy or something. All the homework would almost be worth it."  
  
"You really do hate Divination if you're thinking about willingly taking on work. Are you sure you're feeling all right?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Uh huh. You're sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Ron? Looking absolutely miserable doesn't help your case."  
  
"Well, it's just – "  
  
"Oy! Ron! Harry!"  
  
"What do _you_ want, Dean?"  
  
"You going to the game or what?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You've only got about ten minutes to get into your Quidditch robes and onto the pitch. I suggest you hurry up, or McGonagall'll have your head."

* * *

"Ouch. That looked like it hurt."  
  
"ABSOLUTELY BRILLIAN TURN!"  
  
Sigh. "Harry Potter. God, he's such a hunk. Absolutely gorgeous."  
  
"Careful, Lyra, you're drooling."  
  
"He has to be the most popular boy in the whole school."  
  
"And the cutest."  
  
Mad giggling.  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick."  
  
"You're just jealous, Seamus."  
  
"GROGG TO MAYSE, FROM MAYSE TO ZABI- NO! INTERCEPTED BY GRYFFINDOR'S EGEN! HE PASSES TO RUMARK, BUT – OH, NASTY HIT WITH A BLUDGER. FOUL! ARE YOU _SURE_ THAT'S LEGAL?"  
  
"Quite."  
  
"ALL RIGHT, APPARENTLY IT'S LEGAL. STILL QUITE NASTY. SCORE IS LOCKED AT 190 TO 190, AND THE SNITCH HAS COMPLETELY DISAPPEARED. SLYTHERIN HAS PICKED THE QUAFFLE BACK UP AND MAYSE IS ZOOMING TOWARDS THE GRYFFINDOR END..."  
  
"C'mon, Harry. He's got to find it. We're horribly behind in the House Cup this year..."  
  
"'Mione, you need to calm... since when do you bite your nails?"  
  
Sigh. "Nervous habit."  
  
"Well, stop worrying. Besides certain extreme circumstances, had he ever not caught the Snitch?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then, logically, should you be worrying?"  
  
"No."  
  
"So. Watch the game, enjoy, and be prepared to rub it in the Slytherins' faces tomorrow." Grin.  
  
"BLOCKED BY RON WEASLEY. THE QUAFFLE IS BACK TO RUMARK, AND NOW TO EGAN. PASSED TO OUR FEMALE WEASLEY – NO! SHE'S DROPPED IT! ZABINI AGAIN TAKES POSSESSION AND – OUCH. BLUDGER TO THE HEAD. I'M WILLING TO BET SHE'LL FEEL THAT FOR A WEEK. ZABINI CLINGS TO HER BROOM, BARELY, AND THE QUAFFLE IS AGAIN IN GRYFINDOR POSSESION."  
  
Kiss. "Stop worrying."  
  
"I'm not worrying."  
  
"You're worrying. I can tell."  
  
"I'm not – " Sigh. "Oh all right, I'm worrying. I can't help it. They're both going to break their ruddy necks."  
  
Laughter. "I knew it wasn't the House Cup that had you so upset. You don't give a damn about that thing."  
  
"Well, I do 'give a damn' but not to that extent. I'm very worried about Harry hurting himself."  
  
"He'll be fine, 'Mione."  
  
"But it's practically law that he has to fatally injure himself at least once a year. Usually twice. We're about a month into term now, so I'm waiting for something dreadful to happen to him any second now."  
  
"Hermione, you're not his mother..."  
  
"I know that!" Pause. "Do you really think...?"  
  
"No. But you do worry too much."  
  
"Well,_ that_ you tell me all the time."  
  
"That's because it's true. You'll burn yourself out by midterms at this rate."  
  
"I won't. I... Midterms! I should start studying for those!"  
  
Groan. "Hermione!"  
  
Nervous giggle. "... sorry."  
  
"AND IT LOOKS LIKE POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN'S MALFOY IS IN FAST PURSUIT, THEIR FIREBOLTS EVENLY MATCHED. THE SNITCH IS COMPLETELY ERRATIC TODAY. THE SCORE IS 220 TO 200, FAVOR OF GRYFFINDOR. THIS IS ANYONE'S GAME, FOLKS!"  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Yes, Headmaster?"  
  
"How has young Master Malfoy been doing?"  
  
"His grades this past term have been excellent."  
  
"That's not what I asked."  
  
Sigh. "I know."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I want to help him, Albus, I really do... but I don't know how far I can afford to stick my neck out."  
  
"Do only what you can, Severus. Come to my office later, where we can talk more readily."  
  
"After dinner?"  
  
"Perfect." Pause. "Both teams are playing rather well today."  
  
"Yes, quite. Zabini seems to have recovered from her fall rather well."  
  
"OVER IN THE GRYFFINDOR 'STANDS... IT'S HEATING UP!"  
  
"It's going to be rather close."  
  
"Isn't it always? It's Gryffindor and Slytherin, after all."  
  
"AND IS THAT...? YES! HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS, 380 TO 200!"  
  
Giggle. "And Draco was so close, too!"  
  
"Now _there_ is a good looking guy."  
  
"I heard he's going out with Parkinson. Or they were last year."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"I'm going to go ask."  
  
"Wait!"  
  
"Is she nuts?"  
  
"Um, Parkinson?"  
  
"Oh. Mulverhill. What do you want?"  
  
"Is it true that you and Draco are going out?"  
  
"No. I've been keeping rather far away from Draco these days. And you should too." Pause. "If you know what's good for you."  
  
"But you said..."  
  
"Oh, he's not mine. I won't hurt you." Small laugh. "But I'd stay away from just the same." Pause. "Come on Crabbe, Goyle. Let's see if we can't catch some First Years Gryffindorks before they head back to their common room."

* * *

Loud cheers. Whooping noise.  
  
"Yes! We won!"  
  
"Kicked some more Slytherin ass!"  
  
"Remember when Mayse almost ran into the pole? Hilarious. I'd pay money to see that again."  
  
"Did you see when Zabini was hit with the Bludger? I honestly thought she was going to faint!"  
  
"Probably have a bruise too. Too bloody bad. She's a looker."  
  
"For a Slytherin."  
  
"For anyone!" Laughter. "Now, Weissman, on the other hand..."  
  
"Jessica Weissman?"  
  
"Brunette, blue eyes?  
  
"The girl with the huge...?"  
  
"Mhmmm."  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"I'm asking her out tomorrow."  
  
"No way."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're honestly going to ask her out?" Laughter. "She'll turn you down flat!"  
  
"She just broke up with her boyfriend, right? That Hufflepuff."  
  
"That's why she'll say no."  
  
"That's why she'll say yes. She's on the rebound."  
  
"It doesn't matter. She won't go out with you. You're too ugly, Egan. Now me, on the other hand..."  
  
"Oh, please."  
  
"What's the matter with you, Petey boy? Want her for yourself?"  
  
"I don't need a girl, thanks. I've got one of my own."  
  
"Since when?"  
  
"Remember when we were in Honeydukes last weekend?"  
  
"Yeah." Pause. "No way! That girl by the door? The one with the black hair?"  
  
"Mhmm."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Oh, gimme a second... Sara?"  
  
"Saria."  
  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
  
"So, you guys been to the Tower yet?"  
  
"Yesterday."  
  
"And...?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"She screams like a banshee." Burst of laughter. "McGonagall almost caught us."  
  
"_Please_."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Oh, nothing. I just don't believe the lot of you sometimes."  
  
"What about you, Harry? You haven't said a word this whole time."  
  
Short silence.  
  
"Oh, you know him. Not one to kiss and tell."  
  
"Would you know then, Ron?"  
  
"Me? Hell no! But... well. Never mind."  
  
"What? Tell us, you git."  
  
"Sorry lads, but we seem to be all ready quite late for a smashing party."  
  
"Oy! Victory Party!"  
  
"See you back in the Tower."

* * *

"Just ignore them, Harry. They're being gits."  
  
"No, they're just being themselves."  
  
"Gits."  
  
"Honestly, Ron, it doesn't bug me."  
  
"But _you_ bug _them_, and that's not fair. It's not fair at all, actually. It's not like you're going to jump them in the showers or something..."  
  
"They're trying Ron. That's all I'm asking. They're not insulting me or calling me names. They're _trying_ to be themselves. That's what I want."  
  
"But it's... it's not the same."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" Sigh. "I knew telling everyone would change things."  
  
"What? Telling them you liked guys and girls? Just because you don't join in on the guy talk doesn't mean anything. Just because you haven't gone out with a girl lately doesn't mean..."  
  
"You haven't gone out with anyone lately either." Pause. "Not since school started, in fact. And not during the summer either."  
  
Shuffling noise. "Hermione and me... I'm still a little raw, I guess. Besides, there's no one I really like anyway. So it's not a big deal, you know?"  
  
"Just need some time?"  
  
"Yeah." Shrug. "Not too much to pick from around here anyway."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. That Saria girl sounded promising..."  
  
"Harry!"

* * *

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Great game, by the way."  
  
Silence.  
  
"All right, what's wrong with you?"  
  
Longer silence.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"It's... Malfoy."  
  
"What's he done now?"  
  
"Well, it's partly what he's done and partly what he hasn't done."  
  
Sigh. "So... what hasn't he done?"  
  
"He hasn't pulled any of his nasty tricks, or gotten me detention, or insulted Ron. He hasn't done any of that at all."  
  
"So what _has _he done?"  
  
"Kind of... normal things. Acknowledging me in the hall. We've worked on another project together. And when I caught the Snitch today, the only thing he said was 'Good game'." Pause. "I'm confused."  
  
Chuckle. "Isn't it obvious? You were right, Harry. Something must have happened to him over summer break that got him to switch sides. He's against Voldemort and his House knows it. They've cast him out. Remember when most of the school thought you were Slytherin's heir and ignored you? That's what Malfoy must be going through. The Slytherins want nothing to do with him and he long ago isolated the rest of the school. He's lonely, or at the very least he's _alone_."  
  
Another sigh. "I... I guess. I mean..." Pause. "Didn't think of it that way."  
  
"My question is, what are you going to do about it?"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you."  
  
"_Me_? What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Try to be his friend, maybe? I suppose I could, but really, what do we have in common? At the very least the both of you have Quidditch."  
  
"I don't think Malfoy really wants a friend, Hermione."  
  
"I don't think he does either. But even he needs someone to talk to now and again." Shrug. "Maybe I'm off base, but... Malfoy isn't a loner by nature. I think he'd appreciate it."  
  
"But he's so..."  
  
"Intimidating?"  
  
"... Annoying. And when did you get so forgiving? This is the Malfoy of 'Mudblood' and the teeth growing curse and many a detention, don't forget."  
  
"He was a prat. I can admit that. I'm willing to bet _he_ can admit that. But a prat does not a Death Eater make. So when it comes down to it... before this, we were children playing childish games. Saying and doing stupid things. Sometimes dangerous things, but still _stupid_. We're older now, and we're actually looking at how what we do affects things. Affects other people. I don't think Malfoy should just get a clean slate, but I don't think we can immaturely ignore him and... and hate him."  
  
"First forgiving, now mature. Seventeen-year-olds aren't allowed to be that serious. We're supposed to do stupid things!"  
  
"Let's cut down on the vitriol, shall we? I believe Seventh Years tend to do stupid things under the influence of firewhiskey. And you, if I don't miss my guess, are stone cold sober. Surprising, considering your rather smashing defeat over Slytherin and the boisterous party down in the common room."  
  
"I don't feel up to it right now."  
  
Slight pause. "Oh, Harry..."  
  
"Three more Muggle attacks this week. Three, Hermione. Twenty dead Muggles. Five of them were children. And any one of them could have been me. Should have been me."  
  
"Bollocks. Stop that. You didn't die that day because your mother _loved_ you. And there is nothing wrong with that. If you had died, and Voldemort had kept on living, the world would be in far worse shape than it is now. This... it isn't perfect right now, by any measure, but it's not Voldemort's world. Not yet. And it won't be. Not when we keep on fighting."  
  
Silence.  
  
"You can't blame me for not liking it."  
  
"No. I can't. And I know people see you as a sign, a hero, and you don't like it. The fact remains that you are the most powerful wizard this school has seen in years. The fact remains that you defeated Voldemort, if only temporarily. You've survived Death Eaters, swarms of Dementors, abusive relatives, a basilisk, giant spiders, and escaped the Department of Mysteries more or less unscathed. You had a convicted murderer as a godfather. You're a Parseltongue, the winner of the Triwizard Cup, the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a hundred years. You're a legend. You're bloody incredible, Harry. I suggest you get used to it."  
  
"Well. You really put it in perspective."  
  
"Oh, shut up. I can't help that it's all ruddy true. Want some real advice? Kill the ruddy bastard and be done with it. Then disappear. That's the only thing that will ever get you out of the limelight."  
  
Stomping feet.  
  
"Kill the ruddy bastard. If only it were that easy."

* * *

"Harry? I'm... I'm sorry for yesterday. I blew up at you for no reason. I'm just... I'm a little stressed." Pause. "Sorry."  
  
"It's all right. It was my fault. I was playing the martyr again, and... I'm glad you snapped me out of it."  
  
"We're all right then?"  
  
"Yeah. C'mon, let's go get some breakfast before Neville sets it on fire again, or turns it into tadpoles or something."  
  
"First you have to go drag Ron out of the boy's bathroom. He's been in there awhile, and the retching noises are pretty self-explanatory."  
  
"Oh, bloody hell."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"You wouldn't happen to have a hangover potion on you, would you?"  
  
"Right here."  
  
"You're a goddess. I'll be back – with Ron – in a minute."

* * *

"Ron? Are you in here?"  
  
"... Harry?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me."  
  
"Kill me. Please."  
  
"Now, now, don't be so hasty." Pause. "Whoa. How much did you drink last night?"  
  
"Dunno. Did shots with Ginny and her friends."  
  
"Shots of what?" Sniffing noise. "You smell like battery acid."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Never mind. What were you drinking?"  
  
"Some Muggle thing. Tec – Tec-something."  
  
"Tequila?"  
  
"That's it..."  
  
"You guys drank tequila?" Snort. "You drank tequila. No wonder you feel like shit." Sigh. "Here, drink this. Hangover-B-Gone."  
  
"Thanks."

* * *

"Better?"  
  
"The light! It burns!" Hissing noise.  
  
"No more Muggle horror movies for you."  
  
"Aw, but the sheer campiness and rampant inaccuracy is so much fun!"  
  
"Guess you are feeling better then."  
  
"Mhmm."  
  
"But you still stink. Get in the shower, man!"  
  
"What time is it anyway?"  
  
"Half way through breakfast. If you hurry, you might make it to DADA on time."  
  
"Oh joy." Pause. "Go save me a bagel or something."  
  
"Can I trust you to get your head out of that toilet and into the shower?"  
  
Hand wave. "Yeah, yeah, just go."  
  
"All right. See you in class."  
  
"A bagel! Remember!"  
  
"I'll remember! Get in the shower!"

* * *

"He _is_ my best friend, but I honestly don't know how you went out with him for as long as you did."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I handled it because I loved him, and in a way, I still do."  
  
"He isn't over you, you know. Not really."  
  
"I'm not exactly over him either. But you saw us, Harry. We tore each other apart. And you've met his mum. You've met my dad! Our tempers aren't going to cool down as we get older. If we stayed together we would have bickered until we killed each other."  
  
"I don't think it would have been that bad. But at the same time... I guess I do see what you mean. You wouldn't have been happy."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I... I think we could have been happy. But it would be such a roller coaster ride. You know? All highs and lows and no time to rest between them. You... you know? You understand why I did it?"  
  
"Yeah. I understand." Hug. "You did what you felt you had to do. I know how that feels."

* * *

Review and get a naked Harry Potter character of your choice... minus Sirius. He's mine! snuggles Sirius plushie 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

"Good morning, class. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Shocked silence.

"Remus?"

"It's Professor Lupin now, Harry."

"You're our teacher?"

Nod.

"Really?!"

"When the Headmaster offered me the position, I'm afraid I just couldn't refuse the chance to teach my favorite students again." Smile.

"Booyah!"

"Whoohoo!"

"Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnegan. Please calm down."

"Sorry."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Not a problem."

"Professor?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

Small sob. "I am _so_ glad you're here."

"Uhh... yes, I'm glad to be here as well."

* * *

"Honestly, Hermione. Embarrass yourself more, why don't you." 

Sniff. "I can't help it. Besides, now I feel much better about the N.E.W.T.S."

"I should have known it boiled down to those ruddy tests."

"I'm just glad he's all right. I... wondered."

"Harry?"

Shrug. "After Sirius died... I mean, Sirius was my godfather, but I never really knew him. Not really. And he was Remus' best friend. I can't imagine how that must have felt. I really don't want to, truthfully. For awhile there, he wasn't doing too well. And then he just... his letters stopped."

"Over the summer?"

"About halfway through Sixth Year they started tapering off. And during the summer I got one, just at the beginning of June. And then I didn't hear anything until he stepped into that classroom." Deep breath. "I thought..."  
  
"Oh, Harry! And to think I was the one crying..."

"Hermione, he's not going to cry."

"He's tearing up..."

"Damn it, Harry! Don't cry! 'Cause if you cry, I'll cry, Hermione'll cry more..."

"All right, all right. I'm not crying. Honestly."

"Good. Now let's go be men and... curse something." Sniff.

"Good plan."

Eye roll. "Men."

* * *

"Malfoy!" 

Pause. "Potter."

"Can I... talk to you, for a second?"

"Of course."

Sound of a door shutting.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask you favor."

"A favor?"

"I wanted you to teach me... about Dark Magic. Because you're the only one who could possibly understand." Pause. "You do... understand, don't you? The way the Dark Magicks work...?"

"Yes. I understand."

Silence.

"I'll just go then..."

"The Trophy Room. Midnight."

"That sounds familiar."

"Our duel. Yes. I guess we'll just have one of another kind."

"If I have to duck all over the hallways to avoid Filch again I may have to hunt you down and kill you."

Wry smile. "Haven't heard that one in awhile. So are we back to threatening each other?"

Pause. "Only if you want to be."

"I actually rather liked the civility and the chance of a bit of normal conversation."

Small laugh. "All right. Midnight it is then."

"Midnight."

* * *

"What was that all about?" 

"Oh, nothing."

"Right. Pulling Malfoy aside to 'talk' to him is nothing."

"Ron, lay off, all right? It's none of your business."

"Like you don't want to know what that was all about!"

"I believe _I_ all ready know."

"She knows but I don't? How is that fair?"

"She doesn't know, she just thinks she does."

Snort. "Right. Whatever you say, Harry."

* * *

"Midnight. Right on time. Such a Gryffindor quality." 

"And here I thought it was manners."

"Please. Ever heard of fashionably late?" Beat. "Ah yes. I forget who I'm talking to."

Sigh. "Would you just...?"

"Oh, all right. Put your wand away. Theory comes first."

"And here I thought that was a teacher thing. How dreadfully Ravenclaw."

"Better than Hufflepuff."

"Mhmm."

"All right, listen up. We're starting small. The Nunapher Spell..."

* * *

"Harry, where did those scratches come from?" 

"What? Oh. Just Quidditch practice. I didn't even notice."

"But..."

"Hermione, it's just a couple of scratches."

Sigh. "Do you want me to heal them?"

"If it'll make you feel better, sure."

"_Plysis_!" Flash of light.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. I should really teach you that spell one of these days. Pretty interesting, actually. It's creator was actually trying to find a way to remove hair and instead - "

"Hermione."

"Yes?"

"Stop."

"Sorry."

* * *

"So what's on the agenda tonight?" 

Fake perky smile. "Perhaps actually managing to do a spell?"

"Sod off."

* * *

"Good job, Harry. Excellent use of the Ranaculnus charm. Ten points to Gryffindor."

* * *

"Congratulations. You only fainted four times." 

"As opposed to last time - "

" - which was five."

Sigh. "Bloody great."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think there were Dementors around here."

"Dementors I can deal with, _Malfoy_. I need your help in killing Voldemort, something _you_ said you wanted. Now prove it."

* * *

"You all right there, mate? You looked a little peaked. And pale. And you've got bags under your eyes... Wait. Does peaked mean pale?" 

"Rough night, that's all. I can sleep in tomorrow and then I'll be fine."

"S'not nightmares or anything, is it? I can get you a Dreamless Sleep Potion if you like."

"No, nothing like that. Thanks though. If you do want to do me a favor, just make sure the other guys don't wake me up too early tomorrow."

"Can do."

"Thanks, Ron."

"No problem. Speaking of problem, you know that Potions essay that was due today? More specifically, next period?"

Laughter. "Yes, you can have a look at it."

"Thank you thank you thank you!"

* * *

"Pathetic, Potter. Do it again." 

"Screw you, Malfoy."

"Such language. Again."

* * *

"Got another letter from George today." 

"And...?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm telling you!"

"Well, you don't like him, right?"

"Not like that, I don't."

"So tell him."

"Just... tell him?"

"Yes. Tell him."

"Do I really have to? I don't want to... I don't know, break his heart, or something. I've honestly never seen him so serious about anything."

"Well, you can't _not_ return his letter. That's rude, not to mention incredibly insensitive. And you have to tell him that you don't feel that way at some point. Fred isn't very subtle, so I doubt he'd take any hints."

"Just flat out tell him?"

"Exactly."

Deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I can do that. After all, it's just a letter. Words written in ink on parchment. And I get to let Hedwig be the bearer of bad news." Pause. "Um, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"So, um, what should I write? I mean, 'I don't like you' seems terrifically blunt..."

Sigh. "You, Harry Potter, are a hopeless case."

* * *

"You're bleeding." 

"I am? Oh. So I am."

"Idiot. _Plysis_." Short pause. "Why didn't it work?"

Aggravated sigh. "And you call me an idiot. I told you, Potter. Magical immunity, remember? Have to do it the Muggle way."

"Doesn't that require, I don't know... bandages?"

"I have some back in my room."

Small burst of air. "You'll bleed to death before then."

"For Christ's sake, it's not that bad."

"Still." Ripping noise. "C'mon, use this."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"You do realize that was your shirt?"

"Yes."

"And that it's going to get blood all over it, and consequently be irreparable?"

"Yes."

"You realize that _was_ your shirt?"

"Yes, Draco. You asked me that all ready. The blood loss must be making you woozy." Smaller ripping noise. "As I recall, you once called this shirt 'an excuse for a rag', so I don't think anyone will miss it much. Now hold out your arm. I can't tie this properly with you dancing around like a mad house elf."

"Is there any other kind?"

Small laugh. "Not that I've ever met."

* * *

"Hermione, how do you spell 'Pecularius Solamentium'?" 

"Why don't you look it up?"

"I'm trying, but how can I look something up if I don't know how to spell it?"

"Oh for - " Sigh. "P-E-C-U-L-A-R-I-U-S-S-"

"Hold up!" Frantic scratching of a quill. "U-S-S..."

"O-L-A-M-E-N-T..." Pause. "I-U-M."

"Oh good, I had it right. I was starting to think I'd mixed it up with Precumbrus Solemnari again..."

"Honestly, Ron. How do you plan on passing your N.E.W.T. if you can't tell the difference between a seeking spell and one for warding off ghosts?"

"Honestly, if I hear the word 'N.E.W.T.' one more time, I will scream. Do you hear me, Hermione? I don't ruddy care. I don't care if I fail the effing test so long as you don't nag me about them _ever again_!"

Sniff. "Well, excuse me for being worried about you!"

"You're not worrying, you're badgering! Carping! Harassing, hassling, and generally driving me and Harry absolutely batty! Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Hm? Wha -? " Yawn.

"Were you sleeping again?"

"You've been doing that a lot lately."

"Have you been having... you know, nightmares?"

"Mm, no. Nothing like that. Quidditch, homework, detentions... m'a very busy boy, ya know..."

Snort. "Mhm. C'mon Boy Wonder. Let's get up to the Common Room."

"Why?"

"To sleep. Duh."

"It's that late?! What time is it?"

"A little after eleven."

"Oh. Good. Um... I'm gonna go get something from the kitchen. You guys want anything?"

"Nope."

"No thank you."

"Be back later, don't wait up!"

Slam of a door.

"He's been doing that a lot lately."

"D'you think he's meeting someone? These late night disappearances and all..."

"No. If he did, I thought he surely would have said something to you."

"Nope."

Silence.

"N.E.W.T."

Shrill scream.

"Argh! That's it!"

Slam of a door.

Giggles.

* * *

"You're not ready." 

"I _am_ ready!"

"You're_ not_ ready."

"Bollocks! I can recite the theory backwards and forwards, and you've taught me every other spell you know! How the hell am I not ready?"

"You think that you're ready to watch something drop dead at your feet? You're never ready for that!"

"If I'm never going to be ready, than it shouldn't bloody matter when you teach me, should it?"

"Potter..."

"I'm beginning to wonder if you _want _me to kill him or not."

Slam. "Never _ever_ doubt that I want him dead."

"Draco, I didn't mean..."

"Shut up. I will teach you, if that's what you want. Stand here."

"Draco..."

"Shut. Up. Stand like this. Wand out. Straight. No waving or hand motions required. Just power and concentration."

"Draco..."

"I said shut up, Potter! I'm beginning to wonder if you want to kill him or not."

Silence.

"Yes. I want to kill him."

* * *

Off-key singing. "Eighty-nine bottles of beer on the wall, eighty-nine bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, eighty-eight bottles of beer on the wall..."

"Harry, why in heaven's name did you _ever_ teach him that song?"

"We were drunk at the time, if that's any explanation."

Sigh "I suppose it helps."

* * *

"Why isn't it working?!"

"Because you don't want it to."

"Of course I bloody want it to! If you're going on about me not wanting to kill Voldemort, so help me, Malfoy..."

"I don't really give a shit, Potter. Maybe you want to kill Voldemort, maybe you don't. Maybe you will. Maybe you never will. Maybe you'll stand in front of him and lose what nerve you have. All I know is that right now you're hoping that you screw up. Deep down that is _exactly _what you're hoping, because you don't really want to kill it. And if you can't kill a kitten, it makes me wonder whether you'll be able to kill Voldemort."

"I... well that's different. I hate Voldemort! And the kitten..."

"Yes?"

"It's cute! I can't kill anything cute!"

"Meow?"

Sigh. "Fine. What would you prefer to practice on?"

"Not cats. Or dogs. Definitely not a dog... Hedgehogs?"

Sigh. "Potter..."

* * *

"Harry, you know, if there's anything you want to talk to us about...."

"Anything at all. We're totally listening."

"Ummm... okay. What exactly brought this on?"

"Your midnight walks. Sudden disappearances. The fact that you sleep through History of Magic."

"Hermione, everyone does that."

"I don't."

"You're the exception to the rule, I'm afraid."

"What are you - "

"Well, Ron, Hermione, it's been interesting, but I'm a little late and - "

"Late for what?"

"Just... practice. Like the DA. Only it's just me. And, no offense, but I need some time alone. Just to concentrate."

"Oh. All right."

"That's cool, I guess. We just - "

" - Wish you would have told us."

"Exactly."

Groan. "Oh please, don't do that. It reminds me of the twins."

"Any word from George?"

"Nope. Not sure whether I'm relieved or scared."

"Silence isn't usually a good sign. Not from the twins..."

"That's why I'm scared!"

* * *

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

Shattering noise.

"Happy now?"

"No. You were right. I wasn't ready."

Silence.

"If you want to cry, go ahead. I did the first time I used it. I don't know who was more disgusted; my father, or me."

"Draco... shut up." Sniffling noise.

"You feel cold, right?" Sigh. "Go downstairs. Talk to Weasley, play chess, eat chocolate. Go to sleep. Make sure you eat breakfast tomorrow morning." Pause. "You'll be fine."

"But the rat won't be."

"No. It won't. But you know what they say; only hurts for a moment."

More sniffling noises.

"I don't even _like_ rats..."

* * *

Snuffling noise. "Mmm? Harry, z'that you? Where you going?"

"Just for a walk."

"Don't stay out too late." Yawn. "Transfiguration test tomorrow... today... whatever..." Snore.

* * *

"What are you... how did you get in here?"

"Snuck in."

"That ruddy Invisibility Cloak again." Sigh. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I wanted to say thank you. For... you know. Helping me. Everything."

"Harry... I can't... we can't..."

"What?"

Deep breath. "I am a Slytherin. And for all intents and purposes I am a good Slytherin. And by that I mean I'm bad."

"Why did that not make any sense whatsoever?"

"I mean... we can't be seen together. You are Harry Potter, and I am Draco Malfoy."

"I know that!"

"I mean... oh, ruddy hell. I don't know what I'm talking about. And... and I don't understand exactly what's going on because I know exactly what's going on!"

"You do realize that also made no sense whatsoever?"

"Now I do, yes. Thank you for pointing that out." Pause. "What I meant to say, was that I don't understand how you and I are becoming friends. Even thinking about it! We're not supposed to, and we probably shouldn't. But it's... happening anyway."

Shoe scuffle. "I don't really get it either. But apparently it's just another chapter in the Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy saga."

"Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter saga sounds better."

Sigh. "At least I understand what's going on. Pretty much the last thing I ever expected to happen."

"Potter's Theory of Life?"

"Pretty much. The last thing on the world that could or should happen... does."

"So you never thought about being friends with me?"

"Before this year? No, not really, to be truthful. You were just too... hostile? Is that the word I'm looking for?"

Snort. "Hostile sounds about right. And... I shouldn't have been. We got off on the wrong foot, didn't we? Cor, I was a stuck-up little prick. Stupid..."

"You all right?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine. Of course I'm fine. I just..."

"You seemed... never mind. And who says we can't be friends now? Or at least try. Don't we owe ourselves that much?"

"That's what I've been trying to say. I'd like to, I would, but now... Back in Fifth Year, when the Ministry finally declared that Voldemort was back, the lines were drawn. And you are either with him, or you are against him. There's no middle ground and right now I can't afford to be against him. I can't... it's not an option. Not a feasible option, at any rate."

"But you're not with him? You don't... believe what he believes?"

Shrug. "Oh, I'm with him, make no mistake about that. But if I ever get the chance to stick a knife in his back, figuratively or literally, well... I'll do it."

Long silence.

Bitter laugh. "Not much to say after that, is there?"

"I meant what I said. If you ever change your mind."

"Go back to your House, Harry. Snape makes the rounds soon. Can't have you getting caught."

* * *

"The sign-up list for students staying over winter break has been posted for almost a week now. I have yet to see your name on it, Mr. Malfoy."

"I've been called home. As I thought I would be."

"That is... regrettable. Perhaps if your Potions grade were to take sudden nosedive, requiring extra lessons..."

"No. It simply doesn't matter. I have to go back."

"Draco - "

"It will be worse if I don't."

"You don't _have_..." "I'm seventeen, Professor Snape, and he is _Voldemort_. I know my place. I don't like it, but I know it, and it keeps me alive."

Deep breath. "You are making it rather difficult to help you."

"There is no helping me. How many options do you honestly think I have?"

* * *

"Hey Malfoy!"

"... Potter."

"I just wanted to say... have a nice vacation."

"You too."

Silence.

"I'll see you after break, then?"

"Yeah. I'll see you."

* * *

"So... you're going to Dean's house over break, eh?"

"Yeah." "Told Ron yet?"

"No. I... I wasn't going to."

"Oh. I guess..."

"I mean, it's not like I have to. He's my ex, I don't owe him any explanations..."

"He's also your friend, Hermione. And you know he still cares about you. A lot."

"I... I know that. That's why I don't want to tell him."

"It's why you probably should." Pause. "Where is he, anyway?"

"I believe he's in the little wizard's room."

"Oh." Snort. "Little wizard's room?"

"Shut up."

Silence.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"If I can find the right words."

" 'Ron, if you want to send me a letter or anything over vacation, you should know I'll be at Dean's house with his parents.' There. Am I brilliant or what?"

"It's not that easy..."

Door sliding open.

"Hey Hermione, Harry." Pause. "Something wrong?"

"Oh. Oh, no. I'm just heading off to the little wizard's room, that's all. You two play nice while I'm gone."

Door sliding shut.

"Little wizard's room?"

* * *

"So. How'd it go?"

"Why do I feel like I trampled all over his heart?"

"Because in all essence... you did."

"Harry... Argh! Damn it. Damn it!" Slamming noise. Whimper. "Ow."

"Steady on there, 'Mione. Punching the wall is a sort of painful thing to do, as well as being rather manly..."

"I just... I love him. And I love Dean. I don't love Dean the way I love Ron, but I can't be with Ron. I can't. I just _can't_. He doesn't seem to understand that!"

"He understands it. He just doesn't want to accept it. He loves you too."

"I know he does. And I... every time he touches me, I come this close to giving it one more go. This close to saying 'what the hell, it couldn't really have been that bad.' But it was. And it would be again. He'd never hurt me and I'd never hurt him, I know that. But I can't... I can't put us through that again." Pause. "I do love Dean. And he loves me. So that... I'm going to concentrate on that for now."

Long silence.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

* * *

Oy, these kids. (Shakes head) What an emotional rollercoaster! Comments... concerns... rampant OC-ness? Tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

The Christmas chappie, wherein Ron and Harry snog, there are more Weasleys than is healthy, and Ron becomes remarkably Slytherin-like.

* * *

CHAPTER 4  
  
"Ah, Christmas. The holiday where we celebrate a dead man coming back to life."  
  
"That's Easter, Harry."  
  
"Oh. Right." Pause. "So Christmas is...?"  
  
"Celebrating when the 'dead man' was born."  
  
"Ah. That would make more sense." Silence. "Don't look at me like that! It's not like the Dursleys ever took me to church with them!"  
  
Laughter. "It's all right, Harry. It's not really that big a deal. Most wizards are pagan anyway. The only reason I know is because of Dad."  
  
"He studies Muggle religions?"  
  
"It's one of his newest obsessions."  
  
"Finally got him away from electronics?"  
  
"No, unfortunately. Now he regales us with a combination of Muggle movie stories and rebirths and resurrections..." Groan. "Suddenly I'm not so glad we're going home for holiday."

* * *

Gasp. "WE'RE ALIVE!"  
  
"That was... scary."  
  
"Guess everyone came home for the holidays, huh?"  
  
"Yup. First time we've ever had the whole batch since Bill's Third Year at Hogwarts. Of course, back then there were less of us." Frown. "Actually, I don't think _I _was even alive back then. Hmm. Mum's gone round the bed with her years, again."  
  
Popping noise. "Old age, you know."  
  
"The mind's the first thing to go."  
  
"Oy, that rhymed!"  
  
"It did, didn't it?"  
  
"Almost like we're poets."  
  
"We're inventors."  
  
"We can be poet-inventors, like druids were warrior-poets."  
  
"So shouldn't we be inventor-poets?"  
  
"But then that sounds like we _invent_ poets!"  
  
"Ah. True."  
  
Sound of slamming door.  
  
"Whoa. I've completely forgotten what the twins were like."  
  
"I'm never even sure sometimes which one is talking."  
  
"Maybe it's just been one of them all these years. Can't tell. You know, Fred could have been talking for both Fred AND George for years, and we'd never know."  
  
"That's so weird. They play their practical jokes, but only you would think up something like that."  
  
"Whatever, Ron." Pause. "I was just surprised that Ginny came home. I thought for sure that she was going to go with Colin."  
  
"Eh. Colin. She's supposed to pick someone her parents don't approve of, not her brother!"  
  
Snicker. "Poor you. Really, he's not really all that bad. Less and less stalker-like behavior every year."  
  
"Remember when he tried to sneak into the locker rooms after a game to get your picture?"  
  
"And he went into the girls' instead?"  
  
Laughter.  
  
"That was the bloody best. I've never seen Katie so upset."  
  
"And that bruised shoulder he carried around for the better part of a month because he didn't want to tell Madame Pomfrey where he'd gotten it? Priceless. And Katie does hit hard. Just ask George. She smacked him one after he snuck a kiss from her. Though on second thought, that might have been Fred..."  
  
"Whichever. No one can tell the difference. I mean, not even your mum."  
  
"If anyone could tell, it would be her. Dad has theory that she's a secret Animagus. A bloodhound."  
  
"I hope he never told her that."  
  
Snicker. "Hell no! Even dad knows better than to compare mum to a dog! As for the rest of the family, Charlie looks pretty good, don't you think?"  
  
"Yeah, he does. Loads better than when we saw him last year."  
  
"Well, last year was hellish. With that whole uprising in the Ministry, the funding for the dragon research center was put on hold for a couple of months. Didn't sit well with anyone, obviously. Least of all the dragons. _They_ weren't getting fed!"  
  
"That would perhaps make for a cranky dragon, yeah. So did the reserve end up getting shut down? I swear Ron, you never tell me any of this..."  
  
"I don't want to bug you. Got your own problems, and it's really not that big a deal. The reserve never closed and Charlie even ended up getting a better job. Looks like it's agreeing with him too." Pause. "Didja see the scar on his neck though? Looked really nasty. Must have hurt. You now... for it to scar like that?"  
  
"Takes a lot to scar a wizard."  
  
"You'd know, eh? For all the twins' scrapes, they don't have a scar on them. Healing potions will take care of that, easy."  
  
"Amazing what a body can go through and come out looking the same."  
  
Silence.  
  
"All right, none of that. It's Christmas vacation, and I demand that you be unangsting, undepressed, and not overly thoughtful either. Be light and cheery and vacant-headed."  
  
"Be you, you mean?"  
  
Glare. "No. Be part Trelawney, part Professor Flitwick. I resent that remark, by the way. See if I give you anything for Christmas. See if I let you sleep in my room! I'll make you go sleep with the twins, where George can accost you while you sleep!"  
  
"NO!" Horrified shout. "Anything but that!"  
  
"There. That's better. Be a good little Harry and I'll protect you from the evil, horny twin."  
  
"You're such a good friend. A blackmailing friend who has suddenly displayed abnormally Slytherin characteristics, but a friend nonetheless."  
  
"Flattery will get you nowhere."

* * *

"I forget how much your mum likes to feed me."  
  
"It's because you're the poor orphan boy who looks like skin and bones. It brings out the mothering instincts. And she's got a lot of them."  
  
"So I've noticed. But if I had to eat one more piece of ham..."  
  
"You had enough for a whole pig, just by yourself."  
  
"You think I don't _know_ that?" Groan. "I didn't think that was physically possible for me..."  
  
"Well, you're alive to tell the tale, so don't expect too much sympathy." Pause. "Did you see the look on Mum's face when Ginny said she just wanted a salad? I thought she was going to have a heart attack!"  
  
"She's changed so much, hasn't she? Ginny, I mean. I know she's your sister, but she feels kind of like mine too. Besides that whole awkward crush stage..."  
  
"Glad that's over with."  
  
"Tell me about it. It was nice to find there was a person behind the blushing and stammering."  
  
"Aw, but you just have that affect on people."  
  
"Not the people I want."  
  
"Yeah, well, that's the way of the world. It's never that easy. Ever."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to... never mind."  
  
"No. Forget it." Shrug. "Sorry to ruin the good mood. Just comes over me, sometimes."  
  
"Wanna talk? Seriously? I mean, all those times you asked me that Fifth Year..." Nervous laugh. "I've got to catch up."  
  
"No. It's all right."  
  
"Ron... Is this about Hermione?"  
  
"Possibly. Yes. I don't know." Sigh. "Can we talk about something else?"  
  
"Sure." Pause. "So. How 'bout them Cannons?"  
  
Weak chuckle. "You're the best, mate."

* * *

"Happy Christmas Ron!"  
  
"G'way..."  
  
"Roooooon, it's Chriiiiiiiistmaaaaaas..."  
  
"Oh, bloody hell, stop that."  
  
Snapping sound.  
  
"Garghh!"  
  
"Oh, did the sunlight hurt your eyes? So sorry."  
  
"Bastard."  
  
"Profanity! Just for that, you're losing your blankets!"  
  
Quick swishing noise.  
  
"Fecking hell, Harry! It's bloody cold!"  
  
"So put on a robe and come downstairs. Or I'm going to open all your presents and take whatever I like."  
  
Growl. "As if you really like sweaters that much."  
  
"I happen to be rather fond of maroon."  
  
"NO ONE is fond of maroon."  
  
"Just get up. Lazy arsehole that you are."  
  
"... will you shut up?"  
  
"No. But I'll stop singing."  
  
"Well, that's a plus." Sigh. "All right."

* * *

"Um, thanks, mum."  
  
Beaming smile. "You're welcome, dear."

* * *

Snigger. "At least it's not maroon."  
  
"It's red, Harry. Bright red."  
  
"It's bright and cheery."  
  
"And vacant-headed?"  
  
"No, you take care of that part."  
  
"Humph. See you got another green one."  
  
Smirk. "It matches my eyes."

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Harry."  
  
Hug. "Happy Christmas, Ginny. Did you like your new robes?"  
  
"I love them! How did you know they were what I wanted?"  
  
"Oh, I cheated, of course. I asked the other girls in your dorm." Grin. "They were all too happy to help me."  
  
"I'm sure they were. Hoping to snag Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor." Pause. "By the way... have you got your eye on anyone? Because..."  
  
"No, no one." Shrug. "Definitely not anyone in our House, Gin. I know everyone pretty well, and... no sparks."  
  
"Thought so. Nicky was pretty interested, but I didn't think she was your type."  
  
Frown. "I don't really have a type."  
  
"Harry... darling, everyone has a type!"  
  
"Okay, then I don't what my type is."  
  
"Hmm. Well, as far as the physical goes, you really don't have a preference."  
  
"I'd _prefer_ they didn't look like Goyle or Bulstrode..."  
  
Giggle. "You know what I mean. You don't care whether they're blonde or brunette or redhead..."  
  
"Actually, I sort of lean away from redheads." Pause. "No offense."  
  
Wink. "Discriminating bastard."  
  
"Well, they all remind me of you guys, and that's just..."  
  
"Squicky?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"I understand. We're family. You're like a... cousin. A really hot cousin."  
  
"Ginny!"  
  
"I'm kidding!"

* * *

"Was it just me, or was Charlie flirting with you earlier?"  
  
"I hope not. I refuse to have more than one Weasley in love with me at a time."  
  
"Since there's oh-so-few of us." Eye roll. "I think you two have more in common than George or Ginny."  
  
"Eh. Maybe. But I don't think he was being serious. With the whole flirting thing."  
  
Grin. "Probably true. For as long as I can remember Charlie has brought home a different person each holiday."  
  
"Player! I refuse to date players."  
  
"Such high standards. No wonder your longest relationship was with Cho."  
  
"Ouch. That was low."  
  
Snigger. "Like you wanted to spend one more moment with her than [was necessary."  
  
Shrug. "She was rather different from what I thought she was."  
  
"Seamus' theory was that she turned you off girls forever."  
  
"Seamus is an idiot. Did he forget when I went out with Cassie?"  
  
"That was last year. And Seamus' attention span is roughly five seconds."  
  
"Ah, that's Seamus." Shrug. "Should maybe make me kind of pissed, but... just can't get mad at him lately, you know?"  
  
"Yeah. I know. Too bad about his sister." Shuffling noise. "She was nine."  
  
Sigh. "I know."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I hate when it happens to people in the school. I hate it, period, but it's always worse when you have to see... the family."  
  
"I never know what to say."  
  
"Me either."  
  
Silence.  
  
"He's better now, though."  
  
Fervent nod. "Yeah, he is. Thank god for Miranda."  
  
"Tell me about it. She makes him laugh. Of course, Seamus with a _Ravenclaw_ for a girlfriend is pretty funny to begin with..."  
  
"A Ravenclaw who makes jokes is odder still."  
  
"I never noticed her before. And now she's always over at the common room." Pause. "It's always the quiet ones."  
  
"... and I think you're getting paranoid in your old age."  
  
"Just because you're not paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."  
  
"You are just so strange. I don't know how I'm going to sleep in the same room as you."  
  
Smile. "You could always go sleep with George."

* * *

Gasp. "Oh... God..."  
  
"Ron...?"  
  
"Oh, too much." Moan. "Waaaay too much."  
  
Soft laughter. "I told you. Should have stopped an hour ago."  
  
"But it's so _good_."  
  
"Don't whine. Baby."  
  
"Wahhhh, my tummy hurts. I want my mommy."  
  
"Big baby." Pause. "Oh, fine. Don't puke on me and I'll help you to your room."  
  
"Oh, you're a good mate, you are."  
  
"You're talking like a pirate. Or Yoda."  
  
"Yoda? What's a yoda?"  
  
"Okay, I'm not really up to explaining that right now. Ask me again when we're less drunk."  
  
"M'kay."  
  
"I knew hanging around with Fred and George was a bad idea."  
  
"How is it a bad idea? Lots of chocolate and firewhiskey and Fizzing Whizbees and butterbeer and Bertie Bott's and firewhiskey and... firewhiskey..."  
  
"Yes, I know, you liked the firewhiskey. I was there."  
  
"Right." Pause. "I'm going to blow chunks."  
  
"What? Now? No!"  
  
"Gonna blow so many chunks..."  
  
"A-all right, just hang on a second."  
  
"Urgh..."  
  
"Christ, you weigh a bloody ton. All right, here's your bed." Sound of mattress squeaking. "Just lie back. That's it. And look, not a chunk blown."  
  
"Love ya, mate." Kissing noise.  
  
Long silence.  
  
"Um, Ron...?"  
  
"See, now, if you were a girl, I would have slipped you some tongue."  
  
"That's... comforting." Snort. "You are going to be so embarrassed about this in the morning."  
  
"Am not."  
  
"Oh trust me. You are." Pause. "So, how was your first ever queer kiss?"  
  
"I think it was my last."  
  
Hysterical laughter. "That's good." Pause. More hysterical laughter. "I don't _believe_ you sometimes." Sound of mattress squeaking. "Ahh. Good night, Ron."  
  
"Night, Harry."

* * *

"Good morning lover boy. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like shit, you arsehole."  
  
Snicker. "Ready to face your mum yet?"  
  
"Depends. Do I look as bad as I feel?"  
  
"Well, you said you felt like shit, so I'd have to say yes."  
  
"Damn it." Sigh. "You're better at Glamour Charms than me, right?"  
  
"That's not saying much, Ron."  
  
"I know, but..." Pause. "She'll kill me if she knew I was drinking."  
  
"All right, all right, I'll try. I don't look forward to her fits any more than you do." Pause. "But first, see if the Hangover-B-Gone will help your looks any."  
  
"That stuff tastes like crap."  
  
"Trust me, beats what your mouth tastes like at this point."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Oh." Groan. "I thought that was a... That was real? I actually did that?"  
  
"Well..." Cough. "Yes. You did. And in your defense, you were falling down drunk. And it was more of a peck than a kiss."  
  
"Um. Right. No tongue..."  
  
"Because I'm not a girl."  
  
"That's... yeah. Hmm."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Told you that you'd be embarrassed about it."  
  
"Can I go die now?"  
  
"But your mum's making pancakes."  
  
Swallow. "Pancakes?"  
  
"Uh huh. And bacon and sausage and eggs and hashbrowns. And that was just when I checked last."  
  
"Urgh. I'm not sure if I want to eat or go throw up again." Pause. "And Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Let's never talk about last night. Ever."

* * *

"How is it that the twins look so sickeningly well rested?"  
  
"George was telling earlier about how they've been working on a new version of Hangover-B-Gone. From the looks of it, I'd say it works a sight better than what you get on Diagon Alley."  
  
"So is George still... you know?"  
  
"I think a little. Like Ginny's a little, even now. You know? But neither of them tried to kiss me, so..."  
  
"We said we weren't going to talk about it!  
  
"I don't recall ever agreeing to any such thing."  
  
"But... but I said it! Same difference!"  
  
"No, not really."  
  
Silence.  
  
Groan. "I just keep flashing back..."  
  
Chuckle. "Your face matches your hair right now."  
  
"Trying... to... repress..."  
  
"As far as kisses went, it was okay, but teasing you was well worth the liplock."  
  
"Trying... to... _repress_..."  
  
"Maybe I should tell the twins..."  
  
"Tell the twins?! I would _kill_ you before letting you tell the twins!"  
  
"Don't worry! I was kidding."  
  
"This is just so very amusing to you, isn't it?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Just..." Several deep breaths. "Okay. I'm over it."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really. I was drunk and you're my friend and I'm straight and... and I'm still in love with Hermione, besides."  
  
"Yeah." Pause. "I noticed you guys have been kind of strained lately."  
  
"I know. We said we wouldn't let that happen, but I can't help it. I see her and... and then Dean, and it's just... I... and it's so... Ugh."  
  
Soft laughter. "I think I get the idea."  
  
Silence.  
  
"When you broke up, whose idea was it? I thought it was mutual, but..."  
  
"It was mutual. Just... sort of at Hermione's prompting, I guess you could say. I mean, if she didn't want to be with me, fine. I didn't need her."  
  
"Except you do."  
  
"Well, yeah, but..." Sigh. "That's the whole problem. I know... I never should have let her go. I didn't want to. Not like that. I guess I thought it was one of those 'if you love them, let them go' kind of things. Stupid."  
  
"Yeah. I know I'd be too damn selfish to let anyone I loved go."  
  
"Wish I'd been selfish. Wish I'd been my normal stubborn and stupid self and just kissed her instead of talking. I'm such a... such an idiot. Such a complete and total idiot."  
  
"Okay, it's not that bad." Pause. "Don't look at me, Ron. Not for this. The longest relationship I've ever had was Cho, for God's sake."  
  
"Mm. Good point."  
  
"Look, I know I should probably tell you to move on, and you probably should move on. But I can't say that because I don't _want_ to see you apart. Not really. Maybe that's being selfish, wanting my two best friends to be together. And the worst part of it is Dean. I like Dean, I really do. He's a great guy, you know? Hell, if he batted for the other team..."  
  
"Harry."  
  
"Sorry. I'm just saying. He's our friend too, even though there have been days you've damned him to hell and back."  
  
"Was it that obvious?"  
  
Sigh. "Okay, long story short... I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or what you're supposed to do. I know what I feel, I know what you feel. We don't know how Hermione feels."  
  
"Thanks for the perspective."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Want _me_ to kiss _you_ this time?"  
  
"Argh! Harry!"  
  
"Fine, fine." Pout. "You could just say 'no'. You don't need to hurt my feelings..."  
  
"Arsehole."

* * *

"Well, we're going back to school."  
  
"We're going back to school!"  
  
"Fuck. We're going back to school."  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"Well, that's how I feel. I still haven't finished that Transfiguration essay..."  
  
Sigh. "Let me guess what you're going to ask next."  
  
"I'm not going to copy!"  
  
Raised eyebrow. "Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"That's new."  
  
"New Year's Resolution. Of sorts."  
  
"Harry...?"  
  
"Don't look at me, 'Mione. I don't know what's going on either."  
  
"Shouldn't you be sitting with Dean?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I wanted to catch up with my two best friends."  
  
Longer silence.  
  
"So... what did you two do over break?"  
  
Huge drawn-in breath.  
  
"Mum gave me an orange sweater..."  
  
"Charlie flirted with me..."  
  
"Harry hypothisized that there is actually only one talking twin..."  
  
"I learned the difference between Christmas and Easter..."  
  
"I was going to let George molest Harry while he slept..."  
  
"Mrs. Weasley fed me enough for a small army..."  
  
"I learned Harry couldn't carry a tune in a bucket..."  
  
"Ron again proved he can't hold his liquor..."  
  
"And... uh, think that was it."  
  
"About it, yeah."  
  
Cough. "Well, it sounded like you guys had a great time."  
  
"Oh wait! I forgot something." Pause. "Ron has the most disgusting habit of..."  
  
"_Harry_!"  
  
Sigh. "Fine. I won't tell."  
  
"Still..."  
  
"Oh! And Ron kissed me."  
  
Very long silence.  
  
"Bastard."

* * *

They'll be fitting me for a straight jacket any day now.

Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Professor..."

"Draco?"

"I... shit." Thudding noise. "Sorry, I..."

"What's wrong? What's happened? Where are you hurt?"

"I..."

"Talk, damn you!"

"Nothing. Nowhere. I – I'm safe now. Right? Safe. At least... for a little while."

Sigh. "Yes. You're safe. For a little while." Pause. "I thought... Draco, I wish I could..."

"Stop it! Just... don't."

Long silence.

"The common room. The dorm. I can't be there right now."

"That's understandable. Here, let me help you to the Hospital Wing."

"No! No, Madame Pomfrey..."

"Calm down, you foolish boy. I won't let her touch you. I'm simply getting you your own room. It wouldn't be very good if word of you sleeping in my rooms got out, now would it?"

"No. Yes. You're right. Th-thank you." Sighing noise.

Pause. "Draco?"

Silence.

"How lovely. He's fainted on me." Pause. "Probably better off for it. Well, Mr. Malfoy, let's see if we can get you to the Infirmary without half the school noticing."

* * *

"Severus, what are you...?" Pause. "He smells like blood. He's been hurt."

"I'm quite aware of that, you blithering idiot. I'm taking him to the Infirmary."

"Then why, may I ask, are you carrying him towards the west side of the castle?"

"Because, _Lupin_, I wish to get Draco there before any one else sees him. I'm sure you recall a certain passage behind that tapestry?"

"Ah, yes."

Silence.

Sigh. "Do you think you could perhaps pull the tapestry out of the way? I'm a bit indisposed at the moment."

"Oh. Right." Sound of fabric rustling. "Sorry."

Long silence.

"Perhaps..." Cough. "_Lumos_." Flash of light. "There. That's better."

"Thank you."

Chuckle. "Now, now Severus. Don't hurt yourself."

Growl.

Silence.

"Might I ask what has befallen young Mr. Malfoy?"

"You might."

Pause. "What had befallen young Mr. Malfoy?"

"Nothing I can tell you about."

"You're so contrary."

"On the contrary! I'm quite straightforward. I say exactly what I mean."

"You're an odd bastard, I'll give you that. But if you're in such a truthful mood, I believe I'll ask you a question."

"Lupin..."

"What in bloody hell... "

"Lupin..."

"... were you thinking that night?"

"Lupin – "

"Had you temporarily lost all the sanity, going up to the Whomping Willow like that? You _knew _better – "

"Remus!" Silence. "Not now."

"Severus..."

"Draco needs help. They'll be time for your bloody questions later, I'm afraid." Pause. "Go back to your rooms."

"But..."

"Go back to your rooms."

Sigh. "Fine. But I'll hold you to that, you know. Answering my questions."

"Fine. As long as you leave."

Rustling of fabric.

"You had best appreciate this, Mr. Malfoy."

* * *

"Why, my heavens!"

"Do you have an open bed, Poppy? A private room?"

"Why, yes, yes... right through here." Gasp. "What's happened to him? He looks – "

"Like death warmed over, I know. Don't worry, he won't die."

"I believe _I'll_ be the judge of that."

"No. You won't. You can't examine him."

"Severus...?"

"The boy's specifically requested it. And you know if he refused medical aid you – "

"Can do nothing. I know."

"He just needs a place to heal."

Silence.

"Severus..."

"He's in a lot of pain, I'm sure, but it's nothing fatal."

"Is it..."

Silence.

"Good night, Poppy. Inform me when he wakes."

"Severus! You know very well that there are only three reasons a student would refuse help. So which is it?"

Deep breath. "From what I gather, it's quite possibly all three."

Gasp. "No! But..."

"What are we to do, Poppy? You know what I... pretend to be. You know the boy's family. You know what the situation is right now. Would you have us walk into the dragon's den? We can't do a thing. He doesn't even want our help. The whole thing is hopeless and he knows it."

Silence.

"Believe me, Poppy, no one is sorrier for it than I." Pause. "When he wakes... do you have anything for the pain?"

"We always have Muggle drugs on hand. Plenty of them, as I believe there is also a Third Year Hufflepuff with the same affliction as Mr. Malfoy."

"One last thing..."

"Yes?"

"I know it is in your nature to ask questions. I beg of you... don't."

* * *

"Our Infirmary has a new visitor, yes?"

"Yes. Draco Malfoy."

"Hmm. The right age, isn't he? Winter vacation, too. Shame to spoil it with such dark things..."

"I can't give you the details. For Draco, and for myself."

"I understand, Severus, and I have just one question. His father?"

"No. Not his father. Directly, at any rate."

"I see."

"I'm afraid he won't be in class for a few days. A week, or maybe even two."

"I'll be sure to have his work sent to him. Let him rest as long as he needs to."

"Thank you. Good night, Albus."

"Good night, Severus."

* * *

Gasp.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, glad to see you've returned from the land of the leaving."

"Where am I?"

"Settle down, my dear."

"I... the dungeons..."

"Calm down! You're in the Infirmary. Professor Snape brought you here after you fainted."

Pause. "Fainted? I did not faint."

"Of course you didn't."

"I lost consciousness! I did not, nor will I ever, 'faint'."

Small sigh. "At any rate, how are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Mhmm. Well, if you are hurt, I've ibuprofen, codeine, morphine. Whatever you feel up to."

Silence.

"I don't... know..."

"Haven't you taken Muggle drugs before, dear?"

Shake. "Father..." Pause. "He doesn't approve. You understand..."

"Muggles have their downfalls, I'll admit, but if you don't have magic this is certainly the next best thing. Are you sure you won't let me examine you?"

"No! I thought I'd explained – "

"Mr. Malfoy, you really must stay calm."

"I don't want – _need _you to examine me."

"I won't examine you. Now, please, calm down."

Silence.

Sigh. "You're in a considerable amount of pain, yes?"

Silence.

"If you won't let me examine you, I'll just have to wing it, I suppose." Rattling noise. "If you want some relief from the pain, take this. If you want to sleep, take this. Which will it be?"

Silence.

"Sleep."

"All right then. Water?"

"Yes."

"_Accio Pitcher_!" Dull clank. "There you are, m'dear. Swallow down one of these, and you'll be off to sleep in no time."

Swallowing noise. "Thank you."

"You are most certainly welcome. Just yell for me once you wake up, and I'll bring you some more. Some food too. Nothing too heavy, I should think." Rustle of papers. Sigh. "I do so dislike the first day back from break."

Sound of a door shutting.

Hoarse laughter.

* * *

Sigh. "You're so annoying sometimes."

"Oh, just shut up and get over yourself."

"Well, excuse me for trying to help."

"If we wanted your help, we'd ask for it." Pause. "See? No one wants your help."

"Oh, honestly – "

"Enough!"

Silence.

"Look. No one else wants to say it, so I will. Because I'm Harry Potter, and therefore do stupid things that may land me in bodily harm. So pay attention." Deep breath. "You still love him. He still loves you. You're still head over heels, and you're perfectly miserable without each other. Now do something about it. You're my best mates, all right? You two can't keep fighting like this. You're sniping like you were over Crookshanks and... and Scabbers. And it's stupid! You just need to come out and say what you feel. And you have to_ accept_ certain things. You have to, and you have to sort it out now, or you won't even be friends anymore. Is that what you want?"

Silence.

"Well?"

"No."

"No."

"Then talk. Talk, and for God's sake, stop fighting. That's all I'm asking you to do. If you can't be friends, if you can be friends, whatever! But you need to decide where the hell you stand." Pause. "This isn't just affecting you. It's affecting everyone. I can't stand this. I can't stand to hang out with my two best friends, and that's not how it's supposed to be. And maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't care anymore. I..." Sound of disgust. Stomping feet.

Silence.

"Well. We messed that up."

"Yup."

"I... I didn't know he was so upset about the whole thing."

"We haven't really been that fair to him though, have we?" Sigh. "It's not right to ask him to... referee... all the time."

"Don't even know why we're fighting."

"Me either."

Silence.

"We used to be such good friends. Sure, we argued. This is..."

"It changed. We grew up."

Sigh. "I always knew that 'we'll still be friends' rot was just that. Utter crap."

Shrug. "I don't think it is, all the time. If you and Harry had gone out, I think you two could have broken up and gone back to being friends in the same bloody second. I can't do that with you."

Long silence.

"Does he make you happy? Dean?"

"I don't know, exactly. That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Tell me about him. The way... the way you see him."

"Dean... Well, you know Dean." Nervous laugh. "He's... smart. And he cares about me. He asks me how I am, and he compliments me. We talk about schoolwork, and what we want to do after school. About our families. He understands me, I guess."

"'Cause he's like you."

"He's a lot like me, yes. He would never hurt me."

"Like I would, you mean?"

Pause. "Like you did."

"You think I _like_ hurting you? You think that... that when I open my mouth and you get that look on your face, where you mouth drops open slightly and your lower lip shakes and... you think I like that? I hate that! I hate that I hurt you, and sometimes I want to hurt you. But then I do and I wish so much that I hadn't."

"But you _do_."

Silence.

"I think... I think I could love him."

"Don't do this, Hermione."

"Do what?"

"Be with him. Don't... don't have him be your boyfriend. Don't give him your love. That's me! It's supposed to be me!"

"It's not supposed to be anything! He's good to me, and he likes me. And..."

"Be with me."

"Ron..."

"I can't promise you I won't hurt you, because I won't lie to you. I probably will hurt you. That's me, and you know that. I know... I don't make you happy sometimes. I don't make me very happy sometimes. I try to do everything and end up doing not much of anything. I've got limits, Hermione. Everyone does. I know I'm not smart, and I'm not athletic, and I'm a redhead with the most horrible batch of freckles known to man. I'm poorer than dirt, and I have a terrible temper. But if there's one thing about myself that I'll never regret and never change is that I love you. I'll love you until I die."

"Don't..."

"I'll love you when you yell at me for being lazy and for not wearing matching socks, and when you get a mark on a test that's at least twice mine. I'll love you when you try to liberate house elves and when you call Quidditch stupid, though only God knows why you think that. I'll love you forever. I've loved you even when my stomach was curdling, seeing Dean's arm around you. I'd love you even... even if you marry him, and you have these absolutely scarily brilliant children running around your house. I think I'll love them too, even though I'll wish some of them look like me and not like Dean." Deep breath. "Even when we fought... when you called me names and I called you names and you threw things and then I kissed you and you slapped me and I kissed you again and that time you kissed me back... Christ, Hermione! I _love_ you."

Sobbing.

"I've known you for almost seven years now. Loved you for three. And I know I can't live without you."

"Stop saying those things..."

"Saying what things? Telling you the truth? Telling you what I should be able to tell you every single day? I love you!"

"Stop it! Dean..."

"No, 'Mione! _Not Dean_. Me. _Ron_. Dean doesn't... Dean doesn't _know_ you. He doesn't. He hasn't seen you face down Death Eaters, and mouth off to convicted murderers, and fight your way through the Department of Mysteries. Has he seen you cry? Has he seen you when you're so scared you don't remember your own name? Has he seen you so upset you shake and nothing can make you stop? Does he understand that light you get in your eyes when you solve a problem or cast a new spell for the first time? Because I don't think he does." Kissing noise. "Dean is not me. You love me. And you _don't_ love Dean."

"I know! I don't love him! I don't love him, and I want to, and I should." Slamming noise. "You're right. He's not you. But you... being with you hurts."

"Hermione, being apart hurts so much _more_." Soft sob. "Please."

Long silence.

Hiccup.

Low laughter.

"The two of us... honestly." Shuffling noise.

"I know." Sniff. "We're such a mess."

Silence.

"Hermione...?"

Soft kiss.

"Don't. Not now, all right?"

Silence.

"Just..."

"Don't talk."

Slow, even breathing.

"It can be like this. It can be like this all the time."

Muffled laughter. "You're sort of cute when you beg."

"Is it working?"

"Yes. Yes, it's working."

Long silence.

"We've got class."

"To hell with class."

"Hermione!"

"I'm not going to class with eyes like... like puffy red mushrooms."

"You can cast a Glamour Charm."

"We're all ready late."

"It's Professor Binns; he won't notice."

"Oh, for God's sake Ron. You're so oblivious. I don't _want_ to go to class!"

"Oh." Pause. "Are you suggesting we play hooky?"

"I think we all ready are."

"I'm a bad influence on you."

"Yes. Totally and completely your fault."

"Completely." Smirk.

Silence.

"Want to go out to the lake?"

"The docks?"

"Where else did we ever go?"

"I do recall one rather memorable evening where we skinny-dipped..."

"I'm still denying that ever happened."

"Just because you can't remember it doesn't mean other people can't."

Sigh. "Hanging out with Fred and George is _never_ a good idea."

* * *

"Am I telling him, or are you telling him?"

"At the risk of sounding cowardly, he might hit me, whereas he will never hit you."

"That's logical."

"In the face of more logic, he's your boyfriend."

Sigh. "Also true."

"I've also got to face him in the dorm, which is going to be bad enough. And you know I'll end up with my foot in my mouth at some point anyway..."

"Ron... stop. I'm going to go talk to him."

"Oh, good. Er... you don't really think he'll be too mad, do you?"

"I... don't think so. Maybe."

"A-all right."

* * *

"Dean, can I talk with you for a second?"

"Sure."

"Alone?"

"Oh, right. Be right back Seamus."

Wave. "Take your time."

* * *

"Dean, I..."

"You and Ron are back together, right?"

"Y-yes. I was going to tell you. You just... beat me to it."

Shrug. "It's all right."

"R-really?"

"Really. You guys walked into the Hall just now and I knew. I knew from your faces. You looked happy with me. But with Ron...? There's something else. Maybe because you're so pissed at him, sure, sometimes, but there's something else."

"I did like you, you know."

"I know. I liked you too. I do like you. A lot. But, hey." Shrug. "You're an amazing girl, Hermione. Only someone like you could put up with Ron."

"Yeah, well... he has to put up with me sometimes too." Small smile. "Being a know-it-all is kind of irritating, I suppose."

"You're not irritating, you're just... highly informative."

Soft laughter. "That's it, I'm sure."

Silence.

"I'll miss you. Normally, I don't think I'd really take this so well, but... you're my friends, so I know you didn't do it to hurt me..."

"It wasn't anything like that!"

"I know."

"It just... it just _happened_."

"I know."

Silence.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you later."

"Right. Later."

"Goodbye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Dean."

* * *

"Know what I noticed today?"

"What?"

"Well, besides the abnormally high snog rate between you two... Draco wasn't here."

"I noticed. There was no one to stop us from blowing up our Potions this morning."

"And Snape was in a particularly nasty mood too."

Silence.

"Draco did come back on the train. I saw him, when I passed one of the compartments."

"Where could he be?"

"Well... I say, time to break out the Marauder's Map!"

Rustling noise. Slamming noise. Rather loud crashing noise.

"Found it!"

"Thank God..."

"_I solemnly swear I am up to no good_."

Faint crackling noise.

"Where is he?"

"Not in the dungeons anywhere..."

"Oh. Well that's... odd."

"What's wrong?"

"Where is he?"

"He's in the Hospital Wing."

"Oh."

"That can't be a good sign."

"And Snape is there too."

"That's _really _not a good sign."

"Do you think...?"

"Don't say it."

"Ron...?"

"I just... I don't like the guy, all right? I'll probably never like him. But I don't want to imagine what that must be like. It's burned into your flesh. _Burned_. And once it's on you, you never get away from it. Never. I mean, even the Death Eaters who came forward all those years ago and told who the other were, and where they were hiding... you think people still don't look at them sideways?" Deep breath. "Some people get sucked in to it, and they're whole life gets ruined. And Malfoy... as much as he's tormented me, even I won't wish that upon him." Pause. "Poor bastard."

Stomping footsteps.

"What was that all about?"

"I'm actually not sure."

Silence.

"Well, how'd it go over with Dean?"

"It went... okay. I think he knew I was delaying the inevitable."

"The inevitable?"

"Admitting to Ron that he was right about us."

"Oh." Chuckle. "New thing for Ron to be right?"

"Well, next to me." Smile. "Dean was all right about it. He wasn't saying 'congratulations', or anything, but he doesn't seem too hurt."

"That's good, I guess. Things have seemed a little strained in the dorm, for obvious reasons, but it's been that way for a while, so..."

"Got it. I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm still a bit... oh, a bit worried about everything. Still a little confused. Oh! And I wanted to thank you. You know, for listening to me during all of my crisis moments."

"What are friends for? I'm just glad you worked it out. Glad you got back together. If I had to spend one more minute with depressed-Ron, I would have killed myself."

"That the reason he kissed you? Because he was depressed and in need of a little love?" Giggle.

"We're not going to touch on that subject ever again. He was drunk. Very, very drunk."

"So were you."

"He's straight, Hermione. Trust me. If he wasn't, I would have figured it out a long time ago and stolen him away from you."

Silence.

"Harry? Do you really... like him, like that?"

"Ron? No! Ron's my brother, almost. I was just using it as an expression. Let rephrase that: Trust me. If he wasn't, I would have figured it out a long time ago and introduced him to the wonderful world of being gay. Better?"

"Much."

"Such a dirty minded woman. I think you just want to see us kiss. Admit it! Admit it right now! The thought of your boyfriend and your male best friend kissing is almost enough to fry all your circuits."

"Well, it is a bit..." Cough. "You're an evil man, Harry."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

Short silence.

"You really think Draco got the Mark?"

"Certainly fits. If it was Neville or something like that, it wouldn't be so suspicious. But everyone knows 'Malfoy' means 'Death Eater'."

"I guess." Sigh. "So what do we do? Do we just treat him like normal?"

"In class, yes. But it also means you don't sneak out at midnight to meet him anymore."

"But... I... you..."

"I knew. You think you're so tricky, Harry. Really. You think I don't know you by now? It was obvious."

"Ron didn't know."

"Ron wouldn't notice a dragon if it bit him in the arse."

"Well..."

"Point is, this is quite possibly a dramatic plot to get your guard down and have Draco kidnap you."

"But – "

"Not likely, I know, but still possible. No more meeting Draco by yourself in the dead of night. Do you understand me, Harry James Potter?"

"... I understand. Just one question though."

"And what's that?"

"When did you start calling him Draco?"

Smile. "When you did."

* * *

Sorry for the lack of updates. But now you get two chapters at once! Don't you feel special?


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

Chapter 6

"And where are you going?"

"Umm... out?" Pause. "Mother?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Harry. Just because I'm concerned for your well-being..."

Sigh. "I'm just out for a walk. I need to think. Is that all right with you, 'Mione?"

"I'm sorry Harry. But I worry. I can't help it."

"And I have to get out of this place sometimes. I can't help it. I know it's not the smartest or safest thing to do, all things considered, but God help me, I can't live in a box! McGonagall won't even let me fly by myself anymore. Remus tracks my every move, Dumbledore calls me into his office practically every other day... I can't take it, Hermione. It's even worse than Third Year when they all thought Sirius was trying to murder me. If one more person does something 'for my own good' I'm going to scream! I can't even be myself anymore!"

"Only because being yourself involves stupid and reckless things."

"Not... not _all_ the time. I just want a moment to myself, that's all."

"I can't stop you. Not that I would."

"I'll be careful."

* * *

Sound of a door opening.

"Oh. Ah. Sorry. W-what are you doing here?"

"Thinking."

"I'll just – "

"No, you don't have to leave. I'll just be a minute or two."

Silence.

"So... why haven't you been in class?"

"I haven't been well. I was... injured over break, and have been too sick to attend any classes. Don't worry though. It isn't anything fatal."

Snort. "Well, that's good, I suppose. I think Snape really misses you." Grin. "Practically lost without his golden boy. He actually complimented Parkinson's potion the other day."

"That's quite distressing. I'm beginning to think it's a good thing I'll be in class tomorrow."

"You'll be back... tomorrow?"

"That is what I said, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, I just... right in time for a test, that's all. Properties of Nocturnal Plants."

"Bugger." Sigh. "Maybe I'll fake it for another day..."

"Oh, honestly. You're as bad as Hermione."

"Excuse me?"

"You and I both know you could walk into class tomorrow, take the bloody N.E.W.T., and pass with flying colors. Stop being so damned... unself-confidant!"

"That isn't a real word, you know."

Sigh. "I know." Pause. "Let me rephrase that. Start having more self-confidence. A little of your old arrogance isn't completely out of place when it comes to Potions. Besides, I think we both know Snape grades on totally different curves when it comes to Gryffindors and Slytherins. You'll do fine."

"Well... I am pretty good at Potionswork, aren't I? Certainly better than anyone else in that excuse for an Advanced Potions class..."

"I know you, and I see where this is heading. Stop it right there."

"But I was just working up towards a good – "

"Self-indulgent rant?"

"That wasn't quite the terminology I would have used, but it was something like that, yes."

Silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Whether I answer is another story. Whether I answer truthfully is still another story."

Slight pause. "Well, I'm going to ask anyway, I guess."

"Was that ever really a point of debate?"

Sigh. "Draco... you're... you're not really a Slytherin, are you?

"_Where_ did you get a stupid idea like that?

"Watching you. Really watching you. Really thinking about things you've done. And you're not half as bad as you think you are, really. You don't like to hurt people. Not to say that you haven't, but you – you do pranks, like everyone else. You throw your share of petty insults too, but when it really counts... you don't move in for the kill, I guess you could say."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You remember when... when Stella Fitzgerald got pregnant last year?"

"She was as big as a house, Potter. I doubt I could have missed it."

"I meant... argh, just listen. Everyone was making fun of her, obviously. Saying things behind her back. I'll bet you did too."

"Well..."

"But she dropped her books one day, right in front of the steps near the Great Hall. Everyone pretty much stepped right around her. Some people even kicked her books around. You didn't. You handed her the one that landed near your feet. At the time I think I chalked it up as a fluke, but now, when I think back... there were quite a few little incidents like that, weren't there?"

"Because of that you think that I am really one of the good guy? I thought we had been over this. I'm a _Slytherin_."

"You _want_to be a Slytherin. You want to be what your father wants and what your Housemates want and what Voldemort wants – "

Snarl. "There is where you're wrong. I _do_ want to be a Slytherin. But being Slytherin isn't exactly what you think it means. I don't want to be... that. My father can go to Hell. My Housemates I can forgive. Most of them don't really know what the hell they're getting into. As for Voldemort..."

Long silence.

"A lot of people want to kill him, you know, and they have good reason to. But you... you have reason to strangle him with your bare hands, drag him down Diagon Alley, cut him up into pieces and feed him to a flobberworm. Not necessarily in that order, of course."

"Is that what you'd do to him?"

"Me? Oh no. Nothing so barbaric as that." Pause. "I believe in the Beyond, Harry. I just want to kill him. Once he's out of this world and into the next... I have no doubt he'll get what he deserves. Retribution won't just be mine. It belongs to the other hundreds of thousands he's wronged. It would be enough for me to know that I'd sent him to it. It would be enough for him to just be dead."

"Draco Malfoy, Angel of Vengeance."

"Vengeance. Retribution. An eye for an eye. Whatever you want to call it, Voldemort has a hell of a lot to pay back, don't you think?"

Long silence.

"Did you mean what you said before break? About being... friends?"

"I don't say things I don't mean."

"Never?"

"Never. If I say something like that, I mean it. Does this mean you...?"

"Means I'm thinking about it."

Silence.

"See you in class tomorrow."

* * *

"Malfoy's back."

"So it would seem."

"He seems all right. Pale, but that's not all together unusual for the little pasty face..."

"Feeling a bit vicious today, are we, Ron?"

"I just took a Potions test. I'm feeling _extremely_ vicious."

"Good thing it's only the first class of the day, huh?"

"You are _far_ too cheerful. C'mere, let me strangle you."

"Vicious _and_ violent. Hermione, break up with him. I liked him better depressed. At least he wasn't threatening to kill me."

"Sure. First you push to get us _back_ together, and now you're trying to break us apart. Get your own girlfr– er, boyfriend."

"The pickings are a bit slimmer here for the gay population, I'm afraid."

Batting eyelashes. "You could always go comfort Dean..."

"_Dean_?!"

Silence.

"Uh, never mind, Hermione."

* * *

Mocking sigh. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Prat. You're the one who stole my thinking spot."

"I don't see your name on it."

Smirk. "Look behind you. A little to the left."

Pause. "HJP. I can only assume that's you."

"Mhmm. Harry James Potter."

"How... quaint."

"Was that an insult? Because if it was, it was a horrible insult, if I can't tell when you're insulting me."

"It just means it was subtle and far too above your level of intelligence for you to grasp it."

"See, now that was an insult. I could tell." Pause. Short laugh.

"What?"

"I never even noticed that until now!"

"Noticed what?"

"How you manage to sound so high above everyone with even the simplest sentences."

"It's a gift."

Snort. "I'm sure it is."

"You see? I was toning that down. I _could_ have said, 'It is a divine right from heaven bestowed upon the family of Malfoy..."

"Oh shut it."

"So rude."

Silence.

"You know, the teasing, the kidding around... that's the sort of thing friends do."

"I thought that was the point." Tentative smile.

Grin. "Well... good."

* * *

"Harry."

"Uh... Hermione. W-what are you doing up so late?"

"Waiting for you, idiot. You promised me. You _promised_ you weren't going to sneak out and meet him like this."

"I haven't been."

Stare.

"Well, I haven't been sneaking out with the _intention_ of meeting him, it just... happens."

"He _happens_ to be where ever you go?"

"Well, he _happens_ to always be in the same place, and I always _happen_ to go there."

"I see."

Snort. "I'm sure you do."

Silence.

"Look, Hermione, you were the one who encouraged me to reach out to him in the first place, right? And now that I have, I see you were right. Which isn't really a big surprise."

"Harry..."

"I'm just saying. You _were_ right. He really isn't all that bad. Sure, he's still stuck up and bratty and narcissistic. But he's funny. And when we're not trading insults or hexes or cursing each other's ancestors... he can be nice. I actually kind of like him."

Short silence. Sigh. "Hoisted on my own petard."

Grin. "While I'm not totally sure of the ramifications of that, I think I get the idea."

Another sigh. "All right. All right, go see him. But don't stay out too late. And please, _please_ don't do anything stupid." Pause. "Oh, what am I saying? Just don't do anything _very_ stupid. I'm begging you, really. I'd hate to see you survive six years at Hogwarts to die in the second half of the seventh."

"I'd hate for that to happen too. No plans to die anytime soon, I promise you."

"That's good."

"Goodnight, Hermione. Don't forget, DADA tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Harry. And yes, I am all ready aware that your favorite class is tomorrow."

Grin. "Sorry. Can't help that I like the one class I can manage to beat you in."

Sniff. "No need to rub it in."

"Oh, don't be so stuck up. You'll pass your N.E.W.T. with flying colors, and that's what you wanted, right?"

"I suppose so."

Eye roll. "Well, Ms. Sunshine, I'm off to bed. I'm afraid you've kept me up much too late."

"I've kept you up? I've kept _you_ up?!"

Muffled laughter. "Goodnight, Hermione."

Sigh. "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

"Is there a reason Granger was staring at me all through class today?"

"She found out about our late night visits. Well, actually, it was more like me confirming her suspicions, but... yeah."

"Let me guess. Now she's pissed, convinced that I'm going to kill you, torture you, kidnap you, convert you to that Dark Side?"

"No, mostly I think she's just afraid that I'm going to stay up too late and my school work is going to start to slide. And most of it can't afford to slide, unfortunately."

"Oh. Well. That's rather... I'm not sure if I want to say she's being reasonable, or that she's a pushover."

"A little of both." Shrug. "Hermione's the voice of reason in our little group, but we usually run over her pretty roughshod."

"Which is stupid, considering she is the only one among you with a lick of sense."

"Oh, thanks."

"It's true. Honestly, all the things you do? Completely stupid. Attacking a basilisk. Attacking Dementors. Fighting with a werewolf. Sneaking into the Department of Mysteries..."

"You know about that?"

"Of course. A lot of people have their ways of finding these things out, you know."

"People with certain... affiliations?"

"Yes. Father was absolutely livid, of course."

Snigger. "Wouldn't have it any other way, I'm afraid."

Small smile. "It's all right. Truthfully, I prefer him mad at you."

"So I take it you aren't daddy's little boy, after all?"

"Hardly. I was never enough for him. And even if I would have been, I was only a means to an end. I was the heir. I carried on the family name, the family job, the family _prestige_."

"My family's the same way. Only I wasn't the heir, I was the servant."

Pause. "You simply must be joking."

"Afraid not. I cooked and cleaned. Weeded the garden, that sort of thing. And I slept in a broom closet under the stairs. My aunt and uncle and cousin... they hated me. They hate all magic folk. Anyone who isn't 'normal'.

"And here I thought everyone worshipped the ground you walked on."

Silence.

"Family isn't really all it's cracked up to be, is it?"

"No. No, it's not. Most people don't understand that."

"Most people don't have to understand that. They have families. Real ones."

"Even in Slytherin... it sounds strange, but even with all the arranged marriages, the titling, the pureblood lines, the... Volde – oh, _everything_, they all still have a chance. They still have families. They still love." Pause. "I'm not used to feeling like the outsider in my own House. But I do sometimes."

"I know what you mean. Not too many Gryffindor Parseltongues, are there?"

"You're a lot of things no one else is." Pause. "Not that I meant that as a compliment, of course."

Chuckle. "Keep that up, and I might find myself actually liking you."

Eyebrow raise. "Perish the thought. Mountains would crumble, cities would fall, and Snape would teach class in pink silk boxers."

Pause. "That last one was rather too vivid a picture for me."

"I see what you mean. It had slipped out without too much thought, but now that you've brought my attention to it, pink would be simply awful. He's much too sallow. He's the kind of man that screams neutrals."

"Draco..."

"And don't get me started on you! Really, Harry, the baggy look left awhile ago, and it doesn't even want to try to make its way back. And I know the green brings out your eyes, but do try and buy something else now and again, hmm? A nice sienna maybe, or perhaps a deep plum..."

"I've... er, got to go..." Scramble. Clatter. Slam.

Chuckle. "That was too fun."

* * *

Sound of a door slamming.

"I'm only going to say this once, so I suggest you pay attention. For all intents and purposes, you appear sincere. That you actually want a friend, and that friend is Harry. But if this is a scheme, whether a stupid Slytherin one or one from Voldemort himself, I suggest you stop now before he gets hurt. Because if you ever, ever hurt him, I guarantee it will be one of the last things you do. I've learned a lot here at Hogwarts, and not all of it is exactly legal or Light. You hurt him, you won't have much time to regret it."

"Why, that was positively Slytherin, Granger. I'm impressed."

"Oh please. Like a Slytherin cares that much about someone else."

"Some of us do, actually. For someone who preaches against house elf discrimination, you don't seem to care much about your fellow wizards."

"I've spent seven years watching the Slytherin House Malfoy, and I – "

"I spent seven years _living_ in it. I think I'd know more about Slytherins than you." Pause. "I'm not going to hurt him."

"If you say so. Just remember what I said."

Soft laughter. "I doubt I'll forget it anytime soon."

Pause.

"If you do really want to be his friend, I suppose I'm sorry for what I said. A little while ago, I might have given you the benefit of the doubt. Can't afford to do that anymore. Just... don't hurt him."

"Don't hurt _him_? If anything... I'm worried it will be the other way around."

Silence.

Click of a door.

* * *

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you like about him? Malfoy?"

Pause. "What do you mean?"

"I just... the two of you, you talk, right?"

Nod.

"What do you talk about?"

"Cauldron bottom thickness."

"Prat." Smack.

Shrug. "A little of everything, a little of nothing. Voldemort, Dark Magic, Snape in pink boxer shorts." Grin. "Things that would scare lesser mortals."

"Things you can't tell me or Ron?"

Pause. "Not yet. But we might be... getting there, you know? For all the stuff you and Ron have gone through with me, Draco is still more.. dark, I guess. Dark like I'm dark. Not really because we chose to, but because... we are. We just _are_ that way. I don't think we can help it anymore that Ron can help being a redhead. See, if Ron wanted to, he could dye his hair, or put a glamour over it, but underneath – "

"He'd still be a redhead."

"And no matter how Draco and I could act, underneath we'd still be dark. Draco's just more up front about it, I guess. People expect him to be dark. People have always been half-expecting it from me. After all, I am a Parseltongue. I clearly have an aptitude for Dark Magicks and Dark Creatures. And let's not even touch on the similarities between Voldemort and me..."

Silence.

"I guess when it comes down to it, he makes me feel that dark doesn't have to mean evil. That choice really is what makes us, even more than our nature. He makes me feel... less alone."

Soft smile. "I'm glad then. Glad you're friends."

"Even though you don't really like him?"

"Even then. And I suppose I see you being friends with him more probable than being friends with Parkinson, or MacDougal, or Cromwell..."

"Urgh. Let's not go there."

Giggle. "Or _Snape_."

Wave. "Oh, he's not really that bad. You look inside the man's mind, it's hard to hold a grudge, unfortunately. Though friends would _definitely_ be stretching it."

"Earlier, what you said... were you serious... about Snape? And the..."

"Pink boxer shorts?"

Nod.

"Totally serious. But Draco came to the conclusion that he really 'screamed neutrals', so we decided to leave him in his basic black."

"Oh. That's... good. I think." Head shake. "From now on, please leave me uninformed about Snape and his underthings."

* * *

Very Hermione and Harry centric. Huh. Didn't plan it that way, but whatever...

I'm glad you approve of Ron and Harry's queer kiss. ;)

And, both Chapter 5 and 6 are unbeta-d, so please forgive me a few errors!


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